Breathe
by CMakg
Summary: Enterprise has returned from the expanse and Trip and T’Pol are starting a tentative relationship. It is expected that T’Pol will be offered a Commission with Starfleet and remain on Enterprise. But the High Command conspires to have her rejected by starfleet and return to Vulcan in disgrace. Trip quits Starfleet in protest. How will they come together again.
1. Prologue

_Don't be fooled by the opening chapters, this one is going to be very angsty. If that's not your thing, put down the device and walk away._

 _As is always the case, I don't own anything and make no money from it._

* * *

 ** _Prologue_**

"Breathe. Breathe." She doesn't know who said it. She does not recognise the voice and she can't seem to focus on anything around her.

It's hard to breathe, she is bathed in pain. It feels like she is being torn apart from the inside. Surely there should not be this much pain. Surely this is not normal.

There are voices and movements all around her but she cannot concentrate on any of them. All her attention seems to be pulled inwards. Towards the pain.

"She should be entering a trance, she appears to have achieved only a partial state. Where is her mate, it will be easier for her if he is here?

The pain tears through her again. She does not hear the answer. Where is he. Why is he not here. She lost him, she can't remember how. She tries to reach out to him with her mind, but the pain draws her away from her thoughts.

Perhaps he will not come. She feels a wave of despair at the thought. Tears form in her eyes and roll down her face. No one comforts her, it is not their way.

The pain rips through her again. She cannot help but scream.

"Her condition is advancing too rapidly. She will be in danger if she cannot complete the trance. We may have to medicate her."

More discussions and movements she cannot focus on. Nobody touches her or speaks to her. She is alone with her agony.

She feels the cool press of a hypospray at her neck and hears the hiss of its release. She tries to reach out to him again, before she is pulled under by the drug.

The spiralling pain resumes again. Why won't it stop?

The haze surrounding her starts to darken as the drug woks on her system. She begins to panic, gasping for breath.

She is slipping into unconsciousness, but fighting it all the way. Suddenly she can sense him near.

"I'm here, baby. It's okay, I'm here." Then she remembers, this where she has always found him, in her sleep. She allows the unnatural slumber to take her to him, the pain starts to fade away.

It feels so real she can't help but whisper his name.

"Trip?"

It feels so real she could almost believe he is really here with her.

"That's right, I'm here." He is always with her here, in her dreams.

It feels so real that in her last moments of awareness she can even feel his touch as he speaks to her.

She feels his lips brush her forehead "I'm here, it's okay, I'm here. Just relax, baby, that's right, just breathe...

 **XXX**


	2. Chapter 1

_This chapter occurs during the episode Zero hour._

* * *

 ** _Trip_**

They'd done it. The spheres were destroyed, the thermabaric clouds were dissipating, the weapon was destroyed, Earth was saved... the Captain was dead. Trip sat in his room going through the list over and over again: spheres, clouds, weapon, Earth, Captain. It was almost as if he could only accept the first four items if he could accept the last. He couldn't accept it. He feels like he should celebrate, or cry, or rage or pray or something. But he just sits there going through the list in his head: spheres, clouds, weapon, Earth, Captain.

The whistle of his door breaks through his mantra. "Come." He calls. He has a strange certainty it will be T'Pol.

She walks in and looks at him, sitting on the edge of his bunk. "I couldn't sleep." She tells him. Her voice has its usual blandness but her face is a study of emotion.

"I can't either." He replies.

"The Aquatics should have made a decision by tomorrow as to whether or not they will transport us back to Earth." She explains, surprisingly. He already knows this, she knows he knows it. It is unlike her to state the obvious.

"It would be nice if we don't have to try and coax this broken bucket of bolts home," he replies, maybe she just wants to make conversation. Which is unlike her as well, but a lot of things she's done recently are unlike her, so he plays along

She sits down on the bed next to him, close enough that he can feel her thigh against his. "Do you think we could have done anything differently." She looks at him, eyes wide as she says it.

It is also unlike her to have insecurities. "Of course we could have, but there's no saying things would have turned out better if we did." He takes a chance and holds her hand. "The mission was a success, against impossible odds. We saved Earth, we saved the galaxy, I don't think we've got anything to be ashamed of."

"We didn't save the Captain." She sounds sad.

"No we didn't." What else can he say. He can't quite figure out this new emotional T'Pol. He feels like she keeps moving within his reach then skittering away before he gets the chance to grab her. Suddenly he feels exhausted by it. He finds himself wishing for the old T'Pol whose only expression was a raised eyebrow. He let's go of her hand. "Look, I'm tired, you're tired, I think we should just get some sleep while we can. There are going to be a lot of questions when we get back to Earth. We shouldn't waste this opportunity to sleep."

She gives him a look like a wounded swan. Shit, what's he supposed to do, just leave himself open to be stomped all over again.

She looks at the floor and wrings her hands "I don't want to sleep alone, can I stay with you?"

He should say no. He should say no. He should say no. "Okay." He says. Who is he kidding, where she is concerned it seems he will always leave himself open to be stomped all over.

They strip to their underwear and climb beneath the sheets. She presses herself against him and lays her head on his chest. He lies, dead still and stares at the ceiling. He can feel her blinking eyelashes tickling his chest through his top. He doesn't know how long they lie like that before he realises her breathing has changed and he no longer feels her flicking eyelashes.

He lets out a sigh and falls asleep, listening to the sound of her breathe.

 ** _T'Pol_**

She wakes up, lying on her side with him behind her, his body enveloping hers, his scent in her nose, and his hardness pressed against her lower back. A longing starts to build within her. She wants him closer. She wants to contain him, absorb him, feel herself wrapped around him.

She lies still, trying not to wake him.

She thinks about the first time together. Driven by an emotion she could not name, and a need she could not comprehend, she had offered herself to him. He had not her turned away, not hesitated, even for a moment, he'd been waiting for her and she'd come to him.

At the time it had seemed so obvious, so clear. The new emotions had washed her in one direction, into his arms. It was there, surrounded by him, all around her and inside her, that she had found relief and release from the maelstrom of emotion she had unleashed.

The tide hade pulled her back agin in the morning. The fear of how far from herself she had gone, the realisation of how far she had moved away from the Vulcan way. She is still lost, no longer Vulcan, but not able to be human either.

She has pulled him to her, then pushed him away again, as she has ridden the strange, random waves of feeling she has unleashed. She knows he is confused and hurt, she is better at reading his emotions than her own.

She turns in his arms so they are face to face. She strokes a hand down his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble. She swipes the pad of her thumb across his lips and feels the damp warmth of his breath. She lifts her gaze from his mouth to his eyes to find he is awake and watching her.

She knows she should stop but Dr Phlox is right, she has released the genie, it can't be put back. She runs a finger over his eyebrow, down the side of his face, around the curve of his ear, holding his gaze all the time. She lifts her finger from his ear and traces the length of his nose, not stopping at the tip but continuing down over his lips and chin, straight down his neck and stopping in the suprasternal notch. His arm lowers around her and he pulls her hips tight against his. He is hard against her. Warmth pools in her core. She rests her hand against his chest and feels his heartbeat against her palm.

She realised that this is right, he is right. The only thing in her life that is right is him. She accepts her fate and kisses him.

He wraps both his arms around her and pulls her tight against his chest. He rolls onto his back, taking her with him, not breaking the kiss. Straddling him she sits up, settling into the cradle of his hips. She slides her hands under his top and pushes it up. He arches his back and lifts his shoulders as she moves the shirt up his torso, never taking his eyes off hers. She leans forward to pull the shirt over his head and dips her head to kiss him as she throws it aside. He brings his hands down to rest on her hips and she sits up again.

He glides his hands up her sides, taking her top with it. He takes it towards her head and when he can't reach any further, she finishes removing it and tosses it in the direction of his. His hands move round to cup her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. She drops her head back and grinds into his pelvis.

There are too many clothes between them still. She bends down and places a kiss in the hollow of his throat, where her finger rested only moments ago. She inches along his body, planting a line of kisses, sliding her body down, grabbing his underwear as she goes, which soon join his discarded top on the floor. She crawls back up him and settles over his thighs, just above his knees.

She looks down at him, long and hard, and remembers what it was like to have him inside her. She wraps her hand around him and strokes him. He takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Not sure what is possessing her, she leans forward and takes him in her mouth. He gasps and his hips jolt convulsively off the bed. She can't help but feel satisfaction at his response. She marvels at herself when she realises she used to consider kissing unhygienic.

She continues to work him with her mouth. It seems illogical that this should bring her pleasure as well, but she can feel a tightness in her stomach a hollow pulsing between her legs. He groans suddenly and she realises she's bringing him close, she releases him and slides up his body to kiss him again.

He moves suddenly and flips them over so she is on her back. Before she can react he has removed her underwear and covered her body with his own. He attacks her mouth with his, thrusting in his tongue. She wraps her legs around him. She can feel him pressed against her entrance, he is still damp from her mouth. He slides against her and it's almost more that she can bear. Her breathing comes in short pants. She places her hands on his buttocks, trying to pull him into her.

Finally, he positions himself and slides inside her. She pulls a shaking breath into her lungs, which she doesn't let go as he begins to move. He dips his head to kiss her again then places his mouth next to here ear.

"Breathe, baby" he whispers. "breathe."

XXX


	3. Chapter 2

_Set between the events of Shockwave part II and Home_

* * *

 _ **Trip**_

He palms the biometric pad and hears the click as the lock disengages and the door cracks ajar. Picking up his bags he pushes it open all the way with the bag and enters the small living room. The lights come on automatically as he enters. Home, well not really home. Enterprise is home, this is just a place to stay between missions.

He hasn't been here for over a year. He didn't come here before they left for the expanse. He was working on Enterprise, or with his parents, or crashing in a room at Starfleet after briefings. He wasn't completely coherent then, the grief for Lizzy had been coalescing into rage. It had felt like the weapon that cut through Florida had cleaved him in two at the same time. He had become two people, before the attack Trip, and after, this apartment was a before place. He realises it was T'Pol who put him back together, made him whole again.

He carries his bags through to the bedroom and drops them on the bed. The place looks clean and tidy. He pays a woman to come every couple of months, just to check on the place and wipe the dust off the surfaces. He let her know he was coming a couple of days ago she would have stocked the stasis unit with basics for him, she mother's him a little, he's always kind of liked that. Now that he's here, he's not quite sure what to do with himself. He wonders what T'Pol is doing.

He changes into sweats and a t-shirt and walks back out to the living area, the place is only three rooms really, kitchen/living room, bedroom, and a tiny bathroom, but it always suited him. He got it in his early days at Starfleet. He'd lived in Sausalito as a recruit and liked the atmosphere. He paid for the place with royalties from a plasma injector design he'd come up with for his PHD at MIT. Starfleet poached him before he got the qualification. Most people don't know that about him. He's always played up his uneducated, dropout, Southern hick persona. He doesn't tell people he left high-school at sixteen to to start a PHD at MIT. It's never been his intelligence that has won him friends in the past.

He goes to the stasis unit to see what's inside. Milk, butter, eggs, bacon, bread, apples... beer. Good on Mrs Mac, she really knows what the essentials are. He pulls out one of the beers, it's nice and cold. He pops the top, opens the doors out onto the balcony that stretches the length of the apartment and looks across Richardson Bay to the lights of Belvedere. He can't help himself, he thinks of T'Pol again and wonders if it's to soon to call her.

It feels strange missing her. He's seen her almost every day for the past three years but had never considered spending much time with her during shore leave before. Things have changed over the past year. Hell, things have changed in the past two weeks. Since that night, when they thought the Captain had died, he's spent every night with her since then, slipping out of her quarters in the small hours before the early shift change. He smiles at the memories.

He finishes his beer, walks back inside and places the empty bottle back on the kitchen counter. That's when he sees it, the note. He recognises the paper immediately. It's from a notebook, with black paper, that Lizzy always used to carry for sketching ideas. Her familiar looping handwriting in the chalky, pastel coloured pens she always used to favour, turquoise this time. There is an outline of what looks to be an alien skyline drawn across the bottom of the page with a tiny Enterprise flying above it. His heart slams into his chest. He picks up the note and reads it.

 _Hey big brother,_

 _I hope you don't mind that I crashed at your pad for a couple of days. The Vulcan Embassy were holding some lectures on the history of their architecture. Fascinating! (As they say). Come and see me when you get back so I can return the hospitality._

 _Luv, Lizzy._

 _18/04/53_

A wave of sadness washes over him. Tears fill his eyes and spill down his cheeks. The week before she died. If the Vulcan lectures had been one week later or the probe one week earlier, she would have been safe. It just seems too cruel, to know that she was that close to still being alive. He traces a finger over her words, it's hard to believe they were written nearly a year ago.

His communicator chimes. He palms the tears off his face and looks at the display, it's T'Pol. He takes a moment to compose himself before he answers, just a moment to breathe.

 _ **T'Pol**_

"I'm sorry Lady T'Pol, there is no space available in the public sector of the Compound. If it is your wish, your name can be added to the waiting list and you will be contacted if suitable accommodation becomes available."

She looks at the Vulcan on the front desk and hopes that anger is not showing in her face. His face is expressionless but she knows from his manner that he views her with disdain. That he derives a certain pleasure, which he doesn't bother to suppress, from what he has told her. When she was seconded to the Embassy, she had been his superior officer.

Once he would have called her by her rank. The fact that he has not, even though she has resigned, is telling. Once she would have automatically been ushered into the Compound, there would have been no need to approach the public desk. She knows that there will be rooms available for High Command staff. That these are not being made available to her, even as a courtesy, is an indication of her standing with her people. She is suddenly overcome with sadness. She has allowed herself to be brought so low.

She is uncertain of what to do. She can not return to Enterprise. She could contact the Captain, he would probably assist getting her rooms at Starfleet. There are some hotels in Sausalito but she has sensed a certain hostility in the streets of San Francisco since their return to Earth. She does not like to admit it, but she feels a little uncomfortable venturing into public places alone. Once the negative emotions of others would not have bothered her, the damage done by the trellium has made her vulnerable.

Trip. She does not lie to herself, he was her first thought as soon the that low level bureaucrat told her she could not stay at the compound. She takes out her communicator and places a call to him.

There is a strange tone to his voice when he finally answers. She wonders if she has misinterpreted their relationship, if he is not pleased to hear from her. He seems confused when she tells him she has nowhere to stay. She advises him that she as is no longer part of the High Command, that the public quarters are full and she will not be offered a room in the diplomatic quarters. She does not mention that as a courtesy, a former High Command Officer would usually be given priority accommodation, he does not need to know of her lack of status on Vulcan. He does not even hesitate, he invites her to stay with him.

She checks her tricorder, his apartment is not far from the Vulcan Compound and she has very little luggage, so she walks. Twenty minutes later she is standing in front of his door, her heart pounding in anticipation. She rings the bell and reminds herself to breathe.

 _ **Trip**_

He can't believe she's coming here, to his place. He experiences a moment of panic, and starts to walk around thinking he should tidy up before she gets there. It occurs to him that, given he's only been in the place for twenty minutes, it's not going to be that messy. He puts the empty bottle into the recycling, goes to the bedroom to get some spare bedding and takes it to the living room. He doesn't want to make assumptions.

He kind of wishes he did have something to tidy. He feels like a bit of an idiot, just sitting, perched on the edge of his sofa, waiting for her, so he goes into the bedroom and unpacks his bag, which takes five minutes. He wanders into the living room with a PADD and sits down on the sofa again. It occurs to him that this is probably what he would have been doing tonight anyway and starts looking at some specs for the upgrades to Enterprise. The time goes faster than he would have anticipated.

He opens the door to find her standing there with a single bag, still wearing her catsuit with Vulcan robes over top. He takes the bag off her and invites her inside. She seems hesitant, as if by coming to his private home she is crossing a line.

They both stand awkwardly, in the middle of the living room. He's not sure what to say. She spies the bedding on the sofa and asks him if that's where she should sleep. He blushes and stammers that he didn't want assume anything or make her feel pressured. He starts tells her she's welcome to the bed and if she doesn't feel comfortable sleeping with him, he'll take the couch. She's kissing him before he's even finished the sentence. That answers that question. He drops her bag on the living room floor and abandons it there.

Neither of them get very much sleep that night. He wakes in the morning to sunlight streaming through the open blinds, the sound of cars going up and down street and birds chirping, and the feeling of T'Pol sleeping against his side. He muses that he could get used this and just lies there, waiting for her to wake up, listening to her breathe.

 **XXX**


	4. Chapter 3

_**T'Pol**_

She emerges from the shower on slightly shaky legs and he wraps a towel around her from behind, enclosing her in his arms and bending to kiss her neck. She relaxes against him, thinks of her trellium fuelled dream of him in the shower and is glad she has overwritten that memory with the real thing. There is certainly immeasurable pleasure from the experience. She turns in the circle of his arms and presses her mouth against his, taking his tongue into her mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. She breaks the kiss and runs gentle kisses along his jaw then rests her head on his shoulder. He pulls her closer and they stay like that for a minute, enjoying the closeness.

"I'll go get some breakfast ready while you get dressed." He kisses her forehead and pats her bottom. "My menu options are pretty limited at the moment. I may be able to dig up some oatmeal, otherwise all I have that would suit you is bread and apples." As he says this he shucks off his towel and moves into the bedroom to pull on a pair of sweat pants.

She stands for a moment and looks at herself in the mirror. She feels like a different person than she was a year ago it amazes her that she still looks the same. She is startled out of her introspection by the ringing doorbell. She hears Trip move across the living room and open the front door.

"Natalie!" She can hear the surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?" She recognises the name. It's his old girlfriend. She didn't think they were in contact anymore.

"I heard you were back, I thought I'd come and see how you are." She can hear the flirtatiousness in the woman's voice. The hair on the back of her neck stands up. This is her mate, how dare this woman intrude.

She feels a surge of foolishness. He has made her no promises. She tries to ignore their murmured conversation.

She looks around the small bathroom and realises she left her bag in the living room last night. She stands in the middle of room, wrapped in a towel and wonders what to do. She feels like she should be able to leave this bathroom, go into the living room and get her clothes. She is an invited guest after all. But she hates how exposed she feels by the situation. That by going out there this woman, this stranger, will discern things about her, private things.

She feels panic building in her chest. These sorts of things would not happen to her if she was a proper Vulcan, if she was still able to suppress her emotions, if she had not sought them out.

She looks at herself in the mirror again, she still doesn't look any different. She finally tamps down on the rouge emotions. Logic sets in, she needs her clothes, she is starting to feel cold. It is not any business of this woman where she slept or with whom. She tightens the towel around herself, combs her hair, sets her shoulders and walks out of the bathroom. She doesn't even stop to breathe.

 ** _Trip_**

He almost feels like humming. He pads out into the living room in his bare feet, with his chest bare and notices T'Pol's bag on floor where he dropped it the night before. He thinks he should probably take it to her, she'll need her clothes. Before he he gets any further, the doorbell rings.

His eyes narrow, it's still early and he's not expecting anyone. He opens the door to find himself face to face with someone he hasn't even thought about for a couple of years, let alone seen.

"Natalie!" He doesn't even try to keep the confusion out of his voice. "What are you doing here?"

Her reply has a note of flirtatiousness, her eyes wandering over his bare chest, he wishes he had a shirt on.

"Um, you haven't contacted me for over two years. What brings you here now?" He doesn't feel hostile to her, just indifferent. To be honest he hadn't been that devastated by her Dear John letter two and a half years ago, he just hated failure.

"You know, I always felt bad about the way we ended. I just never knew when I was going to see you." She pushes past him and walks into the living room.

He crosses his arms and sticks his tongue in his cheek. He still can't figure why she's here. She's being kind of pushy. He looks her over, long blonde hair in artful waves, carefully made up, tight jeans. It seems like she's gone to a lot of trouble for eight thirty a.m. on a Saturday. He scratches his head.

"Look, it was always pretty optimistic for us to think we could make it work with light years between us. There were no hard feelings." He doesn't close the door or move from his spot beside it. This just seems suspicious.

"And now you're back, an interstellar hero." She smiles coyly.

He realises that's what it's all about. He's famous and she wants to be linked to it. She moves closer to him and he can smell her perfume, it's cloying and sickly. She raises a hand like she's going to touch him. He moves away and goes and stands next to the sofa.

Her eyes narrow, she notices the bedding folded neatly at the end of the sofa and the bag on the floor, not far away. "Do you have someone staying here?"

Before he can answer, T'Pol emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, her hair still damp. "I forgot my bag." She informs them emotionlessly, picks up the bag and disappears back into the bathroom.

Natalie's eyes go wide as saucers. "You have the Vulcan staying here! Don't they prefer to stick to their own people?"

"The Vulcan Compound was full, T'Pol needed a place to stay." He thanks the gods for the blankets on the sofa and the bag in the living room suggesting that she slept out here. T'Pol would hate to have her private life exposed.

"Surely she could have stayed at Starfleet. You shouldn't need to put yourself out for her, it's not like her people would have done the same for you." He can hear the disdain in her voice. His anger comes to the surface.

"Firstly it's not an inconvenience to invite a friend to crash at your place. Secondly, I can't speak for Vulcan, but T'Pol did put herself out for us, in a big way. She nearly died for us in expanse, several times. Finally, if you consider me an interstellar hero, then you better consider her one too. Because we wouldn't have made it without her."

He moves over and stands by the door, indicating she should leave. She walks past him but turns before she exits. "You know Trip, you need to ask yourself what aliens have ever done for Earth, apart from killing your sister. We don't owe them anything, not even a couch to sleep on." He slams the door behind her.

He feels like he's been punched it the guts. He's spent the last three years seeing two aliens daily. They have both saved his life on several occasions. He considers one his friend and he thinks he might be in love with the other. He's come to realise that even the Xindi, who he wanted to exterminate a couple of months ago, are just people. He finds it hard to comprehend, that he can get over what the Xindi did, but the rest of Earth can't. For the first time he considers that his relationship with T'Pol may be a greater source of trouble than just fraternisation.

He walks over to the bathroom door and knocks gently. "T'Pol, are you okay in there?"

The door opens. She emerges dressed in her catsuit, carrying her bag, spine so stiff it's like it was cast in concrete. "I apologise if I have made things awkward for you with your... friend. I can contact Captain Archer and enquire if he can arrange accommodations for me at Starfleet."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Please don't do that." He begs. He grabs her arms desperate to communicate to her. "Natalie, is not a friend. I haven't heard anything from her for over two years. She's just someone that I used to know who thought she could use an old connection to link herself to one of the 'Hero's of the Expanse." He takes a deep shaky breath. "I really want you to stay with me."

She stands there for a moment, staring at him with her eyes wide. Finally she speaks. "I will stay if it does not inconvenience you."

He laughs releasing tension. "Trust me darlin', having you here is about as far from inconvenient as it's possible to get." He pulls her into a hug, she doesn't relax into it like she did in the bathroom. He feels as though the fragile comfort that had existed between them, just ten minutes ago, has been shattered by Natalie's visit. He steps away from her and takes hers hands. "Hey, are we okay?"

She looks away for a moment, then speaks. "I have no experience with a relationship of this nature. On Vulcan a child is betrothed at age seven. There is no dating or previous partners to negotiate. I have no cultural knowledge to call on to navigate this situation."

He snorts and squeezes her hands. "Trust me, there's no amount of cultural knowledge that makes exes any easier to navigate." He lets go of one hand and starts leading her to the kitchen. "Come on, let's get some breakfast. We have a busy day ahead."

She looks confused. "We are not on duty today."

He grins "I know, busy doin' nothin', that is."

The ease between them returns while he prepares breakfast. They talk about non consequential things. The repairs to Enterprise, the de-briefing schedule, until he turns to find her reading Lizzy's note. He feels the familiar tightness in his throat.

She looks at him, compassion evident in her eyes. "You saw this for the first time yesterday?"

He nods, her insight is startling. "I didn't come back here before we left for the expanse."

He looks at him intently. "I grieve with thee." Such simple words but it feels like she really does.

They take their breakfast out onto the balcony and sit in the weak sunshine of early spring. He puts on a sweater and loans her a sweatshirt, he smiles at her in the oversized top with its Starfleet insignia.

The conversation starts when she tells him that the city skyline on the note looks much like that of ShiKahr her home city on Vulcan. He's not sure what prompts it, perhaps the note, but he starts to talk about Lizzy. He hasn't told her much about his lost sister. It always seemed too raw before. He talks about Lizzy's compulsion to create, her interest in all types of architecture that would have prompted her to hear the Vulcan lectures, her passion for design. She in turn tells him something of her spurned fiancé, also an architect, but a person who would never be mentioned in the same sentence as passion.

He talks about his childhood, all his siblings and his parents. Takes out photos and shows her, where he grew up, his family, his home that is no longer there. She responds with her own memories of childhood. Her pet sehlat, the symmetry of minds she felt with her father, her struggle to retain her logic after his death, the dissonance in her relationship with her mother. He notices that she uses non emotional words but is essentially describing emotions. He feels like he is starting to understand her.

He's not sure when or how it happens but at some point she crawls into his lap and snuggles into him. Perhaps seeking the comfort of his warmth, perhaps his touch. Holding each other close, her head resting on his shoulder, they sit together in silence, watching the boats in the bay, and just breathe.

XXX


	5. Chapter 4

_**Trip**_

Trip looks around his living room and smiles to himself. Two weeks have passed since he arrived home and there is evidence of T'Pol all over his house. Her toiletries share the cabinets and shelves in his bathroom, her clothes occupy half the closet, there is a low table with a candle and meditation cushion in front of the living room windows, a copy of 'The Teachings of Surak', in Vulcan, lies on the coffee table, a selection of Vulcan fruits and vegetables are stored next to the Earth food in the status unit, canisters of her favourite teas sit on the bench top, her Vulcan robes hang on the coat hook next to the door. She has a side of the bed and a regular seat at the dining table where she always sits. Her presence here feels permanent and he is not surprised to find that he feels okay about that.

He looks at the time, it's eight a.m. and she is still asleep. He frowns slightly, as he understands it, she needs less sleep than humans but she seems to be waking later and later each day. Yesterday he had to wake her to get to work on time, she missed her meditation and was edgy all day. He makes her some mint tea, carries it through to the bedroom, sits down on the edge of the bed and kisses her awake.

"Hey sleepy head, it's already oh-eight-hundred. You need to get up now if you want to meditate before going to the Embassy."

She looks up at him with the bleary confusion of someone woken abruptly.

He smiles down at her and tenderly pushes her tussled hair off her face. "I'll go get you some breakfast."

He's in the kitchen heating plomeek broth when she emerges. He notices she's put his Starfleet sweatshirt on over her pyjamas. He's pretty sure he's lost that shirt forever - he's okay with that too.

She sips the broth and wrinkles her nose at the taste but tells him it's fine when he asks. He looks at her closely. There's something about her that's not quite right. She looks sallow and has shadows around her eyes. He feels a twinge of anxiety. He's wonders again if there's something wrong with her but she would never admit to weakness. She only finishes half the broth.

He showers and packs an overnight bag while she meditates. He's heading down to see his parents while she has meetings at the Embassy this weekend. At oh nine thirty he kisses her goodbye and heads for the shuttle terminal. He still can't shake the feeling there's something wrong with her.

He'd like to say he enjoys the weekend with his family but he can't. He doesn't hate it. His parents act much the same, fishing for stories that demonstrate his greatness, asking about friends he's brought home in the past. He and his brother talk sport and work and women like they always did. But he feels like they are all playing a part. Even his sister-in-law and nephews seem awkward. It's as though they are trying too hard to be the people they used to be, before losing Lizzy, but they all seem like clever counterfeits of themselves. It makes him feel sad.

He watches the News and is disturbed by an article about anti-alien marches, a reporter stands in front of the Vulcan Compound and reports that record numbers of Vulcans in the private sector are relocating to Vulcan missions or heading back to Vulcan. His father snorts at the short sightedness of people. Trip thinks about Natalie's parting comments and wonders how common these kinds of sentiments are. He worries about T'Pol walking to the Embassy, he should have left her the ground car.

The president comes on and speaks of ground breaking negotiations for technology exchanges with the Vulcans. Trip's ears perk up. He feels a surge of anticipation at the thought of getting his hands on new tech. It will also require him and T'Pol to work together a lot more and he can't hate that idea.

He wants to call her, just to hear her voice, but worries she will feel crowded. It's a blind path he's trying to navigate. Even she doesn't know how to date a Vulcan. He walks out onto the porch and opens his communicator and pulls up her contact. Then closes it before hitting the call button. He stands there feeling like he's fifteen again, trying to work up the courage to call Sophie Mills and ask her on a date. He chickened out then as well he muses. With that thought he decides he's going to do it and opens up the unit just as it chimes. It's her, she tells him that she misses him. His heart contracts, this is definitely love.

He stands on the porch and looks out into the Mississippi night while they talk about nothing in particular.

He asks how the debriefings went. She responds with that Vulcan catchall of non-information, "Fine."

He can't help himself, he feels so happy that his tongue runs away with him. "Is that 'fine': it was awful and I don't want to talk about it, fine; or 'fine': it just was and there's nothing special to report, fine." He asks.

"The latter." He fancies he can hear the raised eyebrow in her voice.

She asks how things are with his family and he doesn't even register his use of 'fine' as a response until she parrots his words back at him.

He finds himself responding honestly that it's neither. There's a moment of silence as she considers his response. "It took many years for my mother and I to renegotiate the terms of our relationship after the death of my father." She tells him.

His eyes narrow. "I thought you didn't get along with your mother?"

"I don't." She replies honestly. "But our relationship was complex before my father died. His death simply meant we had to find a new level of complexity." She says all this with total deadpan he can't work out if she is teasing him or not.

They sign off the call, looking forward to seeing each other tomorrow. He almost tells her that he loves her, but stops himself at the last minute.

He turns from his contemplation of the night sky to find his parents, sibling and sister-in-law watching him unashamedly through the living room windows.

He walks into the room to face down four grinning adults. "Amusement must be pretty thin on the ground in Mississippi if watching a person take a phone call is so entertaining." He chides them affectionately.

His mother stands up and collects some empty mugs off the coffee table. "Work call, hon?" She asks impassively with a raised eyebrow she could have taken straight of the face of a Vulcan.

"Just a friend." He answers noncommittally.

"A pretty friend?" His brother asks meaningfully.

"A real pretty friend I'd wager, Paul." His father chips in emphasising the 'real'.

"Just hush, all of you" his sister-in-law smacks Paul on the arm as she says it. "It's been years since Trip brought a girl home. We'll never get to meet her if we scare him away now."

Trip just sits there and accepts their playful ribbing, with a smile as wide as the Mississippi, and a faint blush on his cheeks. He's in love, and this is the most natural exchange he's had with his family all day.

It's already dark when he arrives in San Francisco the next day. It seems like winter has made its last gasp and it's cold and raining. When he gets home he finds that T'Pol has started the fire, and the room is warm. She hasn't turned on the lights but has lit candles and distributed them around the room like she does in her quarters on Enterprise, the familiar scent wafts over him reminding him of their neuro-pressure sessions in the expanse. He likes it that she feels comfortable enough here to stamp her mark on the place. He abandons his overnight bag on the floor and drops onto the sofa next to her. He toes off his shoes and puts his feet up on the coffee table. She puts down her book and shifts over to rest in the circle of his arm. They sit there quietly, watching the fire, taking a moment just to be together and breathe.

 ** _T'Pol_**

She feels the heavier artificial gravity of the compound as soon as she is led into the waiting room. She has spent three years on the Earth ship, practically floating in the lighter gravity, and she has always acknowledged the resulting heavier feel of returning for meetings and debriefings. But this is the first time it has felt as though her bones are being dragged into the ground when she has reported to the Vulcan Embassy.

She tries to shake off the cloud of fatigue that seems to have surrounded her in the last week. She suppresses the worry that it indicates a relapse of her Pa'nar syndrome. The Doctor has been amazingly effective at keeping her in remission for the past year and a half but since getting back to Earth she has noticed a number of symptoms that would seem to be most logically explained by her illness. She resolves to contact Phlox and arrange a consultation with him. She reasons it is unlikely to be in the next week. Starfleet debriefings begin on Monday. There will be little time for anything else.

She is not looking forward to any of these debriefings, her dragging fatigue will only make it harder to keep her already difficult emotions suppressed. She has a feeling the Vulcan Embassy staff, in particular, will show her no quarter. She practices some low level meditational breathing while she waits. The more centred she is when the meeting begins the easier it will be.

As it turns out the meeting is relatively benign. The Vulcans are particularly interested in the events on the Seleya but she is in no position to elaborate greatly on this episode, her own logic being so degraded during the boarding that all her memories are clouded with rage and fear. She does not shy away from the task of conveying this information to the collected officials despite the tendency of Vulcans to hold in disdain any sign of emotional weakness. She wants to emphasise the great danger to Vulcans in this compound.

Her analysis of the spheres is also a source of great interest. The data brought back by the Enterprise has largely been made available to the Vulcans. Most of it was her work in the first place, but she provides what further insights she can.

The questions about the emotional stability of the Captain are a cause of some concern to her. She does not want to be disloyal to the Captain but there were moments that she had questioned the logic of his decisions. Particularly in the final stages of the mission where he had twice chosen to put himself forward for missions with a high probability of failure. She also has to acknowledge to herself that her own logic had been compromised at this time so her ability to dissuaded him from an irrational path had been limited. She is reluctant to provide too much information to the High Command it would not surprise her if they are still in doubt about his capabilities after three years.

Despite the relative ease of the discussion she is exhausted by the end of the day and is looking forward to the inviting warmth of Trip's apartment and sinking into the sheets that still smell of him. Instead she is pressed to join the officials for dinner. She is not entirely reluctant she realises, relishing the thought of traditional Vulcan food, prepared by an expert, with authentic ingredients. The meal, strangely, is the low point of her day. The food tastes tainted and metallic, her apatite abandons her as soon as it is put in front of her and it is only through the fiercest of Vulcan discipline that she is able to eat enough to demonstrate good manners.

When she finally arrives home she only has two thoughts on her mind, sleep and Trip. She takes out her communicator and questions whether it is appropriate to call him. She feels the need to reassure him that her affection for him is genuine and she has passed the period of confusion that caused her to push him away so frequently. She admits that she is dissembling, her desire to contact him is for her own satisfaction, she has become accustomed to his presence in the evenings, when they can come together and discuss their day, even if their work has brought them together. She realises that she misses him and experiences a strange certainty that he would be pleased to hear her say it. She places the call and is rewarded with his obvious pleasure at hearing her voice and sentiments.

After terminating the call she eyes the meditation cushions in front of the windows and considers foregoing her usual nighttime session. Her mind is made up when she drifts of to sleep while contemplating the pros and cons and she drags herself, without reluctance, to the bathroom to prepare for sleep. She performs her pre-sleep rituals but as she departs for the bedroom some unknown motivation prompts her to snag one of Trip's worn T-shirts out of the laundry hamper. She dons the shirt and slides into bed wrapped in his scent but missing his presence. She falls into a deep sleep in moments.

It is almost morning before the dream comes. She has dreamed before of course, disturbing emotional visages, mostly the product of chemical alteration to her neural functioning, once as an experiment with reduced Vulcan discipline. Those dreams of the past, if they had not been disturbing, had been down right terrifying. This is different. It has the strange surrealism that humans often report when recounting their sleep induced visions.

Her first awareness of the dream is standing on Enterprise. Later when she looks back and analyses the dream she realises that there is not one detail in the space she is standing that would indicate it was a ship of any kind, but she knows with curious dream certainty that, despite evidence to the contrary, it is Enterprise she is on.

She soon realises that she is not even standing, the grav-plating must have failed so she floats freely in this distorted Enterprise dream space and listens to the pulse of the warp engines. Then she is filled the absolute conviction that there is no warp engine on this Enterprise. Rather the entire ship is alive, a giant organism and the thrumming tattoo she mistook for an engine is its heart beating inside its massive body and she is calmed by the shushing flow of blood through its veins. She feels safe, as though she is home.

She awakens to the strange knowledge that for the first time in a week that she has spontaneously awoken at the designated hour without the intervention of an alarm clock or Trip. She shakes off the strange, unidentifiable emotions the dream has prompted in her and rises to perform a thorough meditation session before returning to the Vulcan Embassy for more debriefing.

The ensuing day proceeds much as the one before. She is pressed for details and analysis of the multitude of encounters and decisions that were made in the expanse. There is constant probing about the Captain, his state of mind, his logic, his emotions. She walks a fine line between disclosure and loyalty. After some time she becomes aware of their suspicions about her relationship with the Captain. Before her damaged synapses can suppress them, she feels flashes of both: amusement at their lack of insight, and insult at the implications. She is asked to define her relationship with the Captain and realises there are not words in her native tongue that adequately capture the affection she feels for him. Ironically it would be easier to define her relationship to Trip, at least there is an equivalent in Vulcan culture and correspondingly in the language.

She realises that it not just Archer to whom she feels attached, but many of the crew members she interacts with on a daily basis. She feels a connection to them that is emotional in its structure. They are her friends, she decides, and feels a sense of satisfaction from the multitude and complexity of the bonds that tie her to this group of humans.

They never ask about Trip. There seems to be an illogical agreement amongst the collected Vulcans to ignore the reports of the alternate Enterprise with its human/Vulcan hybrid Captain. As if, like a small child with no object permanence, provided they do not look directly at the event, it does not exist. There is certainly no logic for her to raise the topic herself, her fragile emotional control is unlikely to be up to being probed about her relationship with the Commander. It is safer to let them assume she feels some small level of unrequited attraction to the Captain than let them know she is completely in the thrall of the Chief Engineer.

By the end of the day the fatigue is drawing against her again. The constant energy requirement to suppress her emotions and the dragging pull of the increased gravity have left her drained and shaking. She stands in front of the the collected officials, her hands clamped behind her back to hide the quiver in her hands, and expresses the appropriate farewells. But it is her direction towards the compound exit that draws Soval's attention.

"You are not staying at the Vulcan Compound, Sub Commander?" Soval is the consummate diplomat. He does not allow the current reputation of a former officer to influence his observance of protocol.

T'Pol schools her features to the best of her compromised abilities. "There was not space in the public section of the Compound when I returned from the Delphic Expanse. I made other accommodation arrangements."

Soval's eyebrow raises. He can be a difficult Vulcan to read when he chooses, even for other Vulcan's, a lifetime as a diplomat has taught him to show nothing in his face. "I am sure suitable arrangements can be made. I will have a room available for you tomorrow."

She can't help but observe the irony. Two weeks ago, when she wanted a place here, she would have felt satisfaction at the offer, particularly knowing that it would have put the talentless desk clerk in his place. Now an offer has been made, she has no desire to stay at the compound. Aside from her contentment at being close to Trip, there is a level of comfort in his home with its private living room and outdoor space, and larger bedroom than she would not get at the compound. It is logical for her to prefer to stay there.

She is not certain how a reluctance to return to the compound would be interpreted by the other Vulcans. Given their obvious suspicions about her connection to the Captain, she is fairly certain they would probe further into her accommodation arrangements. While their enquiries would expose no impropriety in her relationship with Captain Archer, it would almost certainly reveal the depth her relationship with Trip.

She realises she does not have a logical reason to refuse, that would not result in further interrogation. "That would be agreeable." She concedes, adequately concealing her disinclination. "I will check in tomorrow after my duty shift."

She returns to the apartment exhausted and discouraged. She wonders how it is she has become so uncomfortable amongst her own people. She knows she should eat, but her appetite has continued to elude her so she settles in for meditation prior to Trip returning from his parents.

By the time her meditation is complete the sun has set and the temperature has dropped significantly. She eyes the gas fire set in the wall and questions the logic of combustion as a means to heat a room. In the end the logic of physical comfort overrides the illogic of the heating method and she ignites the unit. It warms the small room far quicker than she anticipated and provides a soft glow to the room which she finds soothing. She tamps down on the disquiet this produces. She is Vulcan, she should not need to be soothed.

She sits for a while staring at the flame and contemplating her identity in light of what she has done to herself. Ultimately, she decides, it is logical to accept these new emotions as there is no way to suppress them. She distributes a number of candles around the room and, in the soft scented light, reads Surak in the desperate search for wisdom that can allow her to reconcile her Vulcan identity with her now unstoppable emotions.

When Trip gets home she does not bother to pretend indifference to his arrival. As soon as he sits down next to her, she moves into his arms. The maelstrom of emotions she has battled for the past two days fade away and, for a moment, she basks in the peace his presence grants her. It would be agreeable to remain here with him until Enterprise redeploys but she recognises the logic of keeping their relationship private. She informs him of Soval's offer and her decision to accept it. She feels him stiffen in reaction immediately.

"You'd rather be at the Vulcan compound than here, with me." He looks down at her a hint of hurt in his eyes. He still doubts the sincerity of her feelings for him. Given how confusing her actions have been towards him in the past it is not surprising.

She strokes the side of his face. "No, I would much prefer to stay here with you. But if I were to refuse the Ambassador's offer it would raise questions that would be likely expose our relationship. The effect on both our careers would be detrimental."

He puts his tongue in his cheek and regards her for a moment. "It's going to have to come out eventually. I'm prepared to take something Earthside if it means we can stay together."

She feels a surge of satisfaction at his words. Surely he would not be willing to alter his career trajectory if he did not feel some commitment to her. "In the future, I believe that will be the logical progression for both of us. At the moment, however, I do not even have a formal commission from Starfleet. It is likely they will require my commitment to Enterprise for a significant period before I can request a transfer."

He nods at the the truth in her statement. Then pulls her closer and kisses her forehead. "Still, I'd rather have you here with me."

"It would be agreeable to me also. But the long term stability of our relationship relies on our discretion at this juncture."

The smile he gives her makes her chest tighten. "I like the fact that you're thinking about us as long term."

She crawls into his lap, straddles his hips and looks down into his eyes. She does not feel the need to say anything further but begins to run her fingers over the plains of his face. He looks up at her with a soft smile on his face and settles his hands on her hips under the hem of the oversized starfleet sweatshirt she has requisitioned, stroking his thumbs over her iliac crests.

Later, she regrets her silence, her assumption that he understood that for Vulcans there is only long term, that long term means life. Later, she knows, that for humans, love can not be implied. It is the one emotion that must be spoken. But here and now, she believes he understands and thinks that she does. Later, she recognises the irony that for Vulcans, sex, outside of Pon Farr, is an exclusively emotional act, perhaps the only emotional act for her species; whereas for humans it is more complicated, it can be an act of supreme love but also one of supreme indifference and, as such, they don't rely on it as an indication of affection. Later, she realises that for all the times they misunderstood what the other was saying, their greatest act of miscommunication was when they said nothing at all.

But for now, in this moment they are perfect together. Together they kiss, together they touch, together they move, together they breathe.

XXX


	6. Chapter 5

**_Trip_**

He wakes in the morning after far less sleep than he needs but feeling energised and fulfilled. T'Pol's warm, naked form is pressed against him and he feels her soft breath on his chest. He wishes they could just lie here all day, forget Starfleet, forget the High Command, just be.

His alarm rings at that moment and he sighs, debriefing starts today it's probably going to be a long hard day for all of them, especially Jon. T'Pol starts to stir against him and he brings his hand up to sift his fingers through her hair. He doesn't like to think of her leaving today but he senses that her status amongst her people has already been compromised by her association with humans. He doesn't want to make it worse. He gets up and heads to the bathroom.

Later he stands in the bedroom door, leaning against the jamb, drinking his morning coffee, and watches her pack her bag. She wears one of her familiar catsuits, the blue one today, his personal favourite. He can't help but notice she seems thinner than usual. He was surprised to find most of the Vulcan food in the stasis unit had not been touched. He prepared oatmeal for her breakfast which she barely touched. She seems to sleep more and eat less than when they were on Enterprise. He wants to ask if everything is okay. She has never been good at exposing her weaknesses, he holds his tongue.

She carefully folds the Starfleet sweatshirt and places it almost reverently on the edge of the bed, smoothing out a non-existent crease. When she zips her bag closed without placing it inside he realises she doesn't intend to take it although she clearly wants to. He lifts himself off the door jamb, walks over to her, picks up the top and hands it her with a smile.

"It's yours. Take it, you know you want to. Just remember you get a free human with the shirt." She takes it without a word a placed it in her bag. Later he discovers he is also missing his MIT T-shirt. By that time he doesn't know if it really meant something to her or if she was just collecting souvenirs.

He grabs the bag off the bed and they head for the door. He knows that she can carry her own bag, that his southern manners often chafe against the independence that is bred into her species. He reasons that he can't be other than what he is any more than she can. He hopes they'll spend a lifetime negotiating their differences.

As reaches for the front door handle she grabs his hand to stop him. He looks down at her, confused. She steps in, close to him, looking into his eyes, her face as expressionless as ever. Her hand rises up and her fingers caresses along his jaw. He stands, stock still, she still holds one of his hands and her bag is in the other. She ascends on her toes and places a gentle kiss on his lips. Before he can respond she is gone, the front door opened, and she is heading to the car. He knows what it was, one last kiss until... until they don't know when, she won't be coming home with him tonight. He takes one last look around the apartment, there is still evidence of her stay everywhere. She will be gone tonight but will still be here in some sense. He shakes his head slightly and smiles, then shuts the door and follows her to the car.

The day goes very differently to what he expected. Rather than being de-briefed separately the senior officers are all directed to a single room to be interviewed together by a panel. He doesn't recognise any of officers on the panel. The Admiral Jackson, overseeing the process is an obscure one, Trip's never been fully able to figure out his role in the organisation, he's always assumed intelligence of some sort.

He looks around the room, he can see the confusion on the faces of his fellow officers including the Captain. His instincts tell him that none of this is good. He worries about what it means for Captain Archer. That someone in the higher-ups has an agenda and is pursuing it with impunity. Later he will realise he was half right. He just couldn't see what the agenda was until it had been carried out, until he has all the pieces of the puzzle. By then it is too late.

They cover the initial months of the mission quickly. There is a particular focus on the events on the Seleya and and then again the incident with the alien slave, Rajiin. Trip starts to get nervous, these are both occurrences when the Captain made decisions that could be construed as questionable. He wonders if the Vulcans have been getting on the case of Starfleet again about the Captain's suitability for his post. He steels himself, ready to go into battle for his liege. The necessity never arises. The panel doesn't seem to hone their attention on to any particular officer or decision of either event.

They question all the players equally. Ask for details about actions and perceived states of mind of all the crew involved in either action. Their gaze does not seem to fall on any particular person or situation. They seem to want all the details of each event in miniature. They are exhaustive in the questioning and probing. Until suddenly it's over and they are glancing over subsequent incidents. The telepathic alien that wanted to keep Hoshi as a life companion, the Xindi colony where they mined and refined Kemocite, and the human refugees seemingly trapped in the 19th century on the planet Northstar all seem barely worth a mention.

Suddenly their penetrating gaze is turned on his mimetic clone. Trip shifts uncomfortably in his seat and he's not the only one. Even T'Pol displays some signs of awkwardness at the mention of Sim. He realises he's never really resolved his feelings surrounding the clone. There was an initial briefing, after he recovered from the coma, when the full story was disclosed to him by Phlox and the Captain. Aside from that, the only other time he's discussed Sim with anyone on the crew was the night with T'Pol just after Christmas. He has rather vivid memories of how the conversation panned out and he's certainly not going to be talking about that incident today.

The questioning on the rest of the mission is as intense as it was for the Seleya and Rajiin incidents. No stone is left unturned. Every officer is questioned on his or her impressions of decisions made and reactions by fellow officers. Once again he expects to be defending the Captain and once again it proves unnecessary. He feels like they are looking for particular information and hiding their intent in the breadth of their enquiries.

They are particularly exhaustive over the events at Azati Prime. It's not surprising, a lot of lives were lost that day. He notices a particular focus on the state of mind of T'Pol. This is also not unexpected, it was under her command that things were at their worst. She keeps her composure through it all. Her spine rigid, face passive. The only time he notices a reaction from her is when they ask Malcolm about her instruction to prioritise repairs to allow access to Cargo Bay two. He wonders in passing what that is about but soon lets the thought go as the cross examination proceeds.

Suddenly it's over as abruptly as it began. The four men on the panel stand and thank everyone for their cooperation and depart the room as a unit. The Enterprise officers are left reeling.

"What was that all about." A wide eyed Travis asks.

Hoshi looks thoughtful. "One of those officers was definitely a shrink." She says pensively.

"How can you tell." Travis asks

She shrugs, "Just the way he spoke, the language he used. It was... telling." Her ability with language has always had air of sorcery about it.

Malcolm presses his lips together. It's almost as if, for the Brit, multigenerational military man, a stiff upper lip is not committed enough and he must stiffen both. "I'll tell you what they all were, they were fishermen, and they were casting their net wide, but they were looking for something specific."

Trip sticks his tongue in his cheek and says nothing. He can't put down the sense of impending doom. But he can no longer predict whose head is in the guillotine. He instinctively looks for T'Pol she is across the room talking on her communicator. He wonders if it signifies anything.

Later when he drops T'Pol at the entrance to The Vulcan Compound he tries to shrug off the uncomfortable and seemingly unfounded feeling that he's losing her as he watches her cross the courtyard to the entrance. He wants to leap out of the car and run to claim her. Take her in his arms, press his mouth against hers, he wants to feel her body against him, her heartbeat under his hand. He wants to feel her breathe.

 ** _T'Pol_**

She has no illusions about humanity. She couldn't live among them for three years and come away with no understanding of them. She knows her opinions would be unpopular with the High Command and Vulcans in general. She knows humans will surpass Vulcans. She knows it will happen quickly, almost certainly within her lifetime.

Their emotions are not a weakness, they are a tool. She has witnessed them, facing their death, flooded with fear and still able to function. Their emotional liberation is seductive. They have such hunger for life. They are consumers. They consume resources, cultures, knowledge, take it into themselves, find those components that work best and spit out the desiccated remains of whatever does not suit them.

She should have served her people better. Remained impassive, remained Vulcan, in the face of their human excess. But she did not. Now she has no currency with her own people and they will not heed her warnings. They will not believe that the servant will surpass the master, with or with out Vulcan input. Vulcan will continue to believe in its superiority even against all logic as humanity laughs in its face then speeds away.

She has not completely lost herself. She is still dispassionate enough to see what her human compatriots could not see in the debriefing. She is a scientist. Data, patterns, analysis, these things are her bread a butter. She may not be able to make the instinctive leap that humans seem able to make that almost magically crosses the gaps in their knowledge and takes them to innovation. She may always seek consensus where they thrive in dissent. She may be unable to imagine success in the face of impossible odds. But she can take a data set, any data set and find patterns, groups, systems. She can extrapolate that data and determine outcomes and motivations. It was a natural to her as breathing

She had done that today. Like her colleagues, she had identified that the debriefing panel were working towards a specified goal. She had identified it even before they showed their hand when they asked about cargo bay two. It was then that she knew without doubt she was the target. It was then that she realised that, at the very least, they suspected something about the cause of her behaviour.

After the debriefing, while the officers talked amongst themselves, she calls Doctor Phlox. She wants to know if her medical records have been released. She wants to know how much Starfleet knows. Phlox's behaviour on the communicator is unusual. He will talk to her in person he tells her. Her fears are not allayed.

By the time she returns to her room she is exhausted. The day had been long and keeping a correct Vulcan demeanour had been taxing. She knows she should go to the commissary and get some sustenance but once again she cannot face food. She lies down, just for a moment and falls asleep.

She is on the dream Enterprise again. She floats in the giant organism and listens to its beating heart and feels it breathe.

XXX


	7. Chapter 6

**_T'Pol_**

She is abruptly woken when the chime for her door rings. Years of training mean she is cognisant immediately, she has only slept a few hours, but she is puzzled. She had not been expecting visitors, Trip would not visit her here, and she is something of an outcast amongst her people so it is unlikely to be a Vulcan.

When she answers the door she is surprised to find Dr Phlox. She has become more adept at reading emotions over the past three years and she recognises sadness in the Doctor's face.

"I'm sorry Sub-Commander, I have some bad news for you." He tells her.

After the Doctor leaves she is in turmoil. Emotions wash over her faster that she can process them. She paces her room, wrings her hands, picks up her communicator and opens it but does not call anyone. Eventually she sits down at the computer terminal, books a passage back to Vulcan and sends a message to her mother to let her know when she will be arriving. She packs her belongings ready for her imminent departure. All that is left for her to do is wait. Her role in the de-briefing will over tomorrow. There will be no place for her in Starfleet now.

She contemplates life back on Vulcan. Her emotions will repulse Vulcans. Her reputation will precede her. The stain of her illness will mark her. Her mother will not turn her away, familial bonds are prioritised on Vulcan. But her lack of logic will be cause for disquiet.

She thinks about Trip. More emotions flitter about her like a swarm of butterflies and she cannot seem to catch one and pin it down. Their relationship has never been straight forward. She contemplates her life without him. Suddenly she can't breathe, She can feel her chest tightening, her heart pounding. She drops to her knees and wraps her arms around her stomach. It feels like the walls are closing in on her. She stands and gropes for the door. She must get out, this place is suffocating her.

She walks, she has no idea where. She is wearing no robes, just the catsuit that has been her uniform for the past year. Some people recognise her and point and whisper. She vaguely notices some hostile glances in her direction but she does not acknowledge them. It starts to rain and the streets clear. Heavy, driving, rain, she wishes it could wash the emotion from her. She is becoming unraveled. Far worse than the aftermath of her addiction.

She finds herself in front of a familiar building. Trip. She climbs the external stairs that take her to his level. She is in front of his door but she can't bring herself to ring the bell. She can hear him moving around inside, a muffled, one sided conversation that must be on the communicator. She is wet and cold. Water drips from her hair, rolls down her face and drops to floor. She decides to leave. She does not move. Suddenly the door opens and he finds her there, silent, wet and shivering. Breathe, she tells herself, just breathe.

 ** _Phlox_**

He has always liked humans, they are so enthusiastic about life, so eager. Perhaps it is their short life span. Vulcans and Denobulans have tended to look down on their shot lived friends. Maybe they are looking at it from the wrong perspective, having less time to get things done has made humans so driven to achieve, so cognisant of the short amount of time they have. Oh yes, they hardly ever stop and think, just rush right in. It doesn't hurt for them to have someone around who has a little more experience with life, just to slow them down a bit, point out the pitfalls. But it's hard not to like them all the same. That's why it is such a shame when they let you down.

Of course, he must be honest, it is not the humans he knows that are the betrayers. He is fairly confident that when the Enterprise crew learn what has been done they will be outraged. She is one of them. She has proven herself over and over again. He likes to think they would allow her to make some mistakes.

He should have paid more attention to her. Should have considered the implications of what she had achieved, what it may have cost her. He should not have pushed her towards the Commander. He sighs, it is the Denobulan way to play matchmaker. Exacerbated by the fatherly affection he feels for the Commander, a hangover from raising his clone, Sim. He should have considered what she would have to sacrifice to take what she so clearly wanted. He should have taken into account the fierce self sufficiency that is driven into Vulcans from an early age, that it would lend itself to drastic measures, that for all her confidence and bravado, her air of total competence, she is still quite young.

He visits her at the compound. He is not pleased by what he sees. She is pale and has lost weight. On the surface she seems to accept what he tells her, what the implications are. She indicates that it is not a surprise, that she had discerned evidence in the debriefing that had led her suspect. She did not realise they would gain access to everything. That he would not be able to protect her, even though he has tried. He urges her to see him the next day, to check the progression of her illness, adjust her medication if required. She does not immediately acquiesce, her answer is vague.

He is still worried about her. She is calm, as he would expect from her kind, but it seems like there is something boiling under the surface. Something more human-like, that often indicates trouble in their individuals. He is uncertain what to do for her, she has refused further assistance - probably a good thing he does not need her to hand him anymore rope for them to hang her with.

He is fairly sure her relationship with the Commander is far more significant than either of them has let on. Perhaps she will accept some assistance from Tucker. It is difficult, he is still bound by patient confidentiality but he can suggest the Commander contact her, check up on her. Hopefully it will be enough. He opens the communicator and puts a call through. The Commander is confused, he seeks clarification Phlox cannot provide, but he does not hesitate to offer her aid. He suspects the Commander would lay down his life for the Vulcan. Hopefully that will not be required this time.

After the call is completed he sits down at his computer and reads through the draft on his screen. He feels a constriction in his chest at what he is about to do but knows it is his only choice after what he was forced to do. He has lost faith. He hits send on the message and watches the little symbol appear that shows it has been sent. He still does not find it any easier to breathe.

 ** _Trip_**

The call from Phlox worries him. There is a tone in Phlox's voice that he hasn't heard before, but he won't (or can't) provide details. As soon as Phlox terminates the call he puts a call through to T'Pol. The communicator rings with no answer. He contacts the Vulcan Compound and is transferred to her room, no one pick ups. He starts to become more concerned. He calms himself down and decides to wait an hour, she may be eating, or exercising, or meditating. If she has not returned his calls after an hour he will go to the Vulcan Compound to see her in person.

He lasts forty-five minutes.

He tries calling her again and after getting no response from her communicator or via the Embassy, he grabs his keys and jacket and decides to go down to the compound and find her in person. He opens the door while shrugging on the jacket and almost walks straight into her, standing on his door step, dripping wet and shivering.

He leads her inside, stopping just inside the door, to go and get her a towel from the bathroom. She's soaked to the skin and in the end he just strips the wet clothing of her, wraps her in the towel and leads he to the sofa in front of the fire. He crouches down in front of her taking her ice cold hands, which have gone a turquoise blue colour, and rubbing them between his. He never seen her so cold before, he never even considered what colour her skin would be when she was cold. She doesn't say anything, just sits there and shivers violently.

He sticks his tongue in his cheek. The only time he's seen her even close to this emotional was at Azati Prime, he didn't know how to get through to her then either. All his instincts are telling him to grill her, find out what's wrong, get her to talk. But there's a part of him that knows that's the human way. She is Vulcan, she will not speak until she's ready. So he holds his tongue even though it takes all his discipline.

Her hands have started to look more of a normal colour but she's still shivering. So he goes to his bedroom and gets his robe and a blanket. He pulls the wet towel off her, wraps her in the robe and puts the blanket over her. Not knowing what else to do he sits down next her and pulls her close.

"Just relax." He tells her. "Talk when you're ready."

After a while her shivering stops and he realises what it is she really needs. He extracts himself from the sofa and walks over to the fire. He picks up the lighter on the mantle and lights the candle by the window. She watches him with wide eyes. He takes her by her hand and leads her to the cushion.

"Come on." He tells her, as he urges her to sit down. "You'll feel better if you do."

She sits down and the over sized robe billows around her and gapes open. He bends down to close it for her and kisses her forehead tenderly. He watches as she slips quickly and easily into her meditation.

He sighs and goes to retrieve her sodden clothing from the floor and puts them through a wash and dry cycle so she has something to wear when she leaves.

He's not quite sure what to do with himself while he waits for her to finish so he goes and sits on his bed with a PADD and clears his messages. He replies to those that require a response, marks for action those he'll need to get to later, forwards those that can be handled by someone else and deletes those that are just junk. He gets to one of the multitude of job offers he gets from the private sector and is surprised when his hand hovers over the delete button. He realises he's intrigued by the project.

Some billionaire from Texas who wants to design a warp engine small enough to fit in a shuttle sized vessel. It's a project he could really get his teeth into, the usefulness of a warp capable shuttle immediately evident. His mind wanders on a little fantasy where he and T'Pol chuck in Starfleet, where a relationship is always going to be a problem, and go to Huston to design warp engines together.

He is jolted from his daydream by the sound of her walking into the bedroom. She looks better, calmer, warmer.

"Feeling better?" He asks, looking up at her with a smile.

She doesn't say anything, just looks at him intently for a minute, then opens the robe and lets it drop to the floor. He doesn't say anything either just reaches out and places the PADD on the bedside table without ever taking his eyes off her. She crawls up the bed to straddle his hips, one hand behind his head the other on the side of his face. He places his arms around her and looks up at her.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He asks. She just shakes her head and kisses him and, for the time being, he's okay with that.

Later, when their lying together, legs tangled, the sweat cooling on their bodies, she lifts her head off his chest and looks him the eyes and implores him. "Promise me that you'll trust in me, that you'll trust in this."

And he does promise, and he truly means it when he does. Because he is not fully aware of his own insecurities where she is concerned, because he doesn't know how fragile his trust is, because he doesn't know how much he needs her to tell him with words and not just deeds. Because when they are together, like this, it is as easy to believe in her as it is to breathe.

XXX


	8. Chapter 7

**_Trip_**

Day two resumes. There are more people present today. A quiver of Vulcans, including Soval, stand against the back wall, all as unreadable as ever. Admiral Forrest is present as well, looking like he is sitting under a storm. Even Phlox has joined them. Trip starts at the sight of the usual jovial Doctor, he has never seen him so angry. A knot forms in his stomach. The Vulcans clinch it. This is something to do with T'Pol.

At first it just seems like an assassination of her character. Some Vulcan someone-or-rather stands up and and lists every time T'Pol has acted in opposition to the High Command since joining Enterprises. Trip can't figure out the point until the Vulcan Doctor gets up. That's when it starts to feel like Trip's world is about to come tumbling down.

First it is the Pa'Nar Syndrome. Apparently she has a terminal illness. Which is clearly not news to the Captain. The Doctor gives a breakdown of all the ways this illness makes her less Vulcan. Trip glances over to her, she stares straight ahead, face like a stone. She knew this was coming. The panel says virtually nothing, just clarifies a few points. It seems like a stitch up. But then the bombshell drops. Her trellium addiction. All those months, it sat in their cargo bay, unused to protect her, and she'd been dosing herself with it for half that time.

Things start to become clearer to him. That night, on Enterprise, just after Christmas, it wasn't real. Her jealousy, her attraction, it was all just a drug induced bender. She was literally hooked on a feeling and acted it out with him. All her coming and going, pulling him close, pushing him away it was just the flux of emotions brought on by trellium. She doesn't really feel anything for him, she doesn't really feel anything at all. She was either addicted to drugs or just plain brain damaged.

Her behaviour after Azati Prime takes on a whole new meaning. Both he and Malcolm thought she was behaving strangely. Jesus, was it her fault? Would all those people have survived if she hadn't been doped to her eyeballs? He feels pressure behind his eyes like he wants to cry.

The psychiatrist, Fer'at, presents his analysis of T'Pol's state of mind. He gives a list of reasons why he believes T'Pol has formed an unhealthy infatuation with Captain Archer. A state which has been further exacerbated by her neural damage from the Pa'nar syndrome and the addiction. There's a very nice image of her brain showing all the ways it's not Vulcan enough anymore. Fer'at paints her like some kind of mental incompetent, barely able to function in normal society.

Admiral Jackson speaks for the first time that day. Her role on Enterprise gets painted very darkly. There will be no action against T'Pol as she was not a member of Starfleet at the time of the incidents in question. There is no evidence of impropriety on the part of Captain Archer. Based on the reports from the Vulcan Doctor and Psychiatrist she is declared mentally unfit to serve with Starfleet any further. The meeting is wrapped up and the panel departs.

The room erupts into pandemonium. He sits there reeling in shock. T'Pol has a terminal illness, T'Pol and the Captain, T'Pol dosing herself with trellium. For a moment he can't even put a coherent thought together.

He can see Captain Archer in furious conversation with Phlox, Hoshi and Malcolm joining in. What do they want, to hear, all the gory details. Admiral Forrest goes over to the group. Archer is trying not to shout at his superior. Trip can tell he's furious. Everyone seems furious. Except the Vulcans, they just leave quietly, with the exception of Soval.

The Captain. He should have seen it, should have guessed. All those times when it was just the Captain and T'Pol. Early last year, just after A.G. died when the Captain went out to the dark matter nebula, Trip had offered to go but Jon had taken T'Pol. Then there was that mission for Vulcan that T'Pol went on in 52, it was her and the Captain then as well. He tries to think if there was anything else, any other sign. Then he remembers the Captain's face when the Vulcan psychiatrist announced that T'Pol had some kind of inappropriate affection for him. Jon had looked even more shocked than Trip felt.

He starts to reassess, there's probably nothing going on between them. Surely T'Pol wouldn't have been with him if she could have been with Jon. He thinks about how crazy she went at Azati Prime, because she thought the Captain was on a suicide mission. Then, when she came to him after they thought the Captain had died destroying the weapon, same thing. It was never him she wanted. He feels like an idiot. He was some kind of substitute for the real thing because the Captain was off limits.

It also explains why she turned up at his door last night, because she knew it was all going to come down on her like a house of cards. He was just in walking distance and she needed some chump to put her back together. Hold her hand until all those pesky emotions, that she shouldn't have, got tidied away so she could sit here today like a good Vulcan and take her medicine.

He looks over at her, talking to Soval in hushed tones. Both of their faces neutral. For a moment she looks at Trip, he's pretty sure he doesn't keep the disgust out of his face. She nods slightly, blinks and takes a breath and releases it, then turns back to the Ambassador and they leave together. He doesn't know where they're going, he tells himself he doesn't care.

He feels like his head is going to explode. Like he is being bombarded with emotions, fear, rage, betrayal, grief, guilt. It feels like it's too much for just one person. It's like his heart has been torn out. He stands up and heads for the door. He hears Phlox call his name as he leaves but he doesn't even pause. He has to get out of here, he can't breathe.

 ** _Archer_**

He's not sure exactly when his feelings about this process change. Initially he is nervous, especially when the Vulcans show up, they've never had a lot of love for him and he's made plenty of decisions over the past eight months that they could use to crucify him. Then confusion, what the hell does P'Jem and T'Pol's illness have to do with the Expanse. Then anger, it was a character assassination. The High Command obviously want T'Pol out of Starfleet's sphere of influence.

At first he figures Starfleet won't buy into Vulcan bullshit again. They should have enough experience to know when Vulcans are being, well, Vulcans. But after a while he starts to reassess. The Vulcan experts are been given an awful lot of airtime and no one is coming to her defence. He looks at her to see if he can read anything from her expression, which is a waste of time, she looks like she's carved from stone.

The trellium use is something of a surprise, but not completely. He knew there was something wrong with her at Azati Prime, she was definitely not herself. He had seen it, and ignored it, everyone had their moments in the Expanse, after all, he'd agreed to clone Trip for God's sake. She'd pulled herself together in the end and they still had a mission, so he let it go.

He almost wants to laugh when Fer'at suggests she has 'an unhealthy infatuation' with him and all that implies. He's not sure how they measure that in a Vulcan, perhaps occasional disdain and exasperation are how Vulcans show love, which would suggest every Vulcan he's ever met has an 'unhealthy infatuation' with him.

He quickly realises that none of this is funny, it's not funny at all. She's the best goddamn first officer in the fleet and they're just going to let the Vulcans destroy her. When Admiral Jackson makes his statement, Archer is not surprised, furious yes, but not surprised.

As soon as the panel is gone he's out of his chair and grilling Phlox. He wants to know why the hell he's just hearing about this whole trellium thing now.

Phlox is cool in his anger. Archer was not told because of Doctor/Patient confidentiality. Phlox had assessed her as competent to undertake her duties so he considered it a medical issue, not a command one.

"If her records were confidential why did you hand them over to Starfleet then?" Archer tries to keep the fury out of his voice. He has a strong feeling Phlox would not have willingly done anything to jeopardise T'Pol's wellbeing but he is trying to get the to the bottom of this.

"My hands were tied, Captain. As Chief Medical Officer on a Starfleet vessel, Command has the right to request my records for review. I certainly tried my best to advocate for T'Pol in my debriefing but I believe the outcome was a foregone conclusion." Phlox's anger has dissipated and his sadness at his failure to protect his patient is obvious.

Archer puts his hand on Phlox's shoulder. " I know you would have done your best for her Phlox."

Malcolm, Hoshi and Travis wander over to join the conversation.

"Is there anything we can do about this, to help T'Pol?" Hoshi asks, her eyes suspiciously wet.

"We'll do what we can." Admiral Forrest says as he joins the group. "As I understand it, this came direct from Earth Gov, our hands were tied to large extent. I will certainly be pushing back against the decision. It smacks of something, I'm not sure what, but something."

"You better believe we'll do something!" Archer can feel his temper boiling over. He can't believe he's been blindsided like this.

"Commander Tucker!" Phlox's suddenly calls out. Archer turns to see Trip disappearing out the door. He knows Trip and T'Pol had grown close in the Expanse. Trip probably knows her best of anyone on the ship, he's even been giving her a lift to starfleet over the past couple of weeks.

Archer watches as the as the door slides shut behind Trip. He realises that as justified as his anger is, this is a situation that requires a cool head. T'Pol's reputation rests on this. He needs to take a moment to get his head together, a moment to breathe.

 ** _Soval_**

He is not surprised when Archer requests a meeting to discuss T'Pol. He feels a certain satisfaction, on her behalf, that her human colleagues seem unwilling to accept the outcome of the week's proceedings. It was regrettable he had not been in the position to protect her from the wrath of the High Command. He has spent many years quietly doing his work on behalf of all Vulcans, sometimes bringing him into subtle opposition to the High Command. It has been a delicate balancing act to do this and still be viewed as loyal. It would be illogical for him to compromise his careful work for a single woman, even the daughter of a highly regarded, deceased colleague.

He feels a certain responsibility for her plight. He has meditated extensively on this issue and concluded that it is logical for him to accept some of that burden. She is still very young. Despite her intelligence and outward expression of competence, there was a certain naivety in her view of the High Command when she first came to Earth. No doubt she has been disabused of any notions of the purity of that organisations motives. It must have left her disenchanted when so many of their decisions, particularly with regards to humans, seemed so without logic. Regrettably she was too young and idealistic to see the logic of keeping a low profile when contradicting them. She lacked the experience to know how illogically vindictive they could be when challenged.

He will do his best for T'Pol. He will quietly probe contacts on Vulcan about the possibility of work for her. He has already contacted her mother, and warned T'Les that the daughter coming home to her will not be the same person. He approves T'Les plan to proceed with wedding. He knows the marriage to her childhood betrothed may not be T'Pol's preference but it will help her find acceptance on Vulcan again. There is also the possibility that a bond will assist her with controlling her emotions. He told her as much before she departed and she appeared to accept the advice.

He himself, after decades of quiet observation, has still to determine the agenda of the High Command but is convinced it is not necessarily in the best interest of Vulcan. It disturbs him that an organisation with such power can behave with such a lack of logic. He predicts difficult times ahead for Vulcan. Maintaining sound contacts with Earth will be useful. Hopefully this incident will not drive a greater wedge between the two species. The anger from the crew of Enterprise and Admiral Forrest had been palpable after the debriefing. He resolves to also meet with Admiral Forrest, perhaps something can be done for T'Pol from that angle.

He is uncertain about her future amongst her own kind. She seems to have developed an affinity with humans that would allow her to live out the majority of her life with them, serving Vulcans interests while doing it. He is deeply sceptical about the assertion by Fer'at that she had an attraction to Captain Archer. Although he is certain she feels bonds of loyalty to the Captain, perhaps to many on the crew, he has known her a long time and saw signs of both amusement and insult when she first realised what was being suggested during the Vulcan debriefing. Fer'at may have an excellent understanding of Vulcan psychology but keeps himself wilfully ignorant of anything related to humans. It is quite illogical. No assessment of T'Pol should have been made without taking into account her close association with humans over the past three years.

He can feel agitation starting to break through his emotional blocks. He will need to meditate before meeting with the humans. It is certain they will arrive projecting their emotions like weapons. It will take all his discipline to maintain his emotional suppression and to walk the fine line he has committed himself to for the sake of Vulcan. He sits on his meditation cushion, lights the candle, focuses on the flame and starts to breathe.

XXX


	9. Chapter 8

_I have kept the same timeline in this story as I did in The Butterfly Effect. Based on dates that are actually mentioned in episodes we know that Proving Ground occurred on 6 Dec 2153, and Countdown on 13 Feb 2153. From dialogue we know that Azati Prime occurs either 2 or 3 day's before The Forgotten (there is some contradictions in dialogue), which occurs 3ish day's before the end of E Squared (Enterprise is early but there's no indication of how much), there is no indication of the timing leading up to The Council and Countdown but it appears to be a few days at most. This suggests that Azati Prime occurs about a week before Countdown which would make it the first week of February. If T'Pol started taking Trellium 3 months before this would coincide with the beginning of November. It's not too much of a stretch to conclude that Similitude, (which was 3 episodes before Proving Ground, 6 Dec 53), occurred about a month prior to Proving Ground._

* * *

 ** _Trip_**

When he opens his front door the first thing he notices is the smell of her candles. He feels a twisting in his stomach and he can't tell if it's anger or grief. He's not sure what to do now he's home. His mind keeps drifting back to the revelations of the day, as if there is some detail he's missing, some important clue that would reveal a hidden meaning so this could make some kind of sense to him.

Eventually he just sits down on the couch and stares at the cold fireplace. When the doorbell rings the hope flashes through him before he can tamp down on it, maybe it's her. It's not of course, why would it be her, why would he even want it to be. He's not quite sure what to think when he sees Phlox standing in his doorway asking if he can talk. He steps aside and indicates the Doctor should enter. He feels a twinge of guilt at his bad manners. He's having trouble accessing his charm at this point in time.

It's no surprise when Phlox tells him he wants to discuss T'Pol, he was pretty sure Phlox wasn't here for a local restaurant recommendation.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright Commander, you left Starfleet in something of a hurry."

Trip shrugs. What the hell is he supposed to say, he'd just remembered he left his oven on?

"I guess it was a bit of a shock, finding out all that stuff about T'Pol." He finally says after Phlox just stands there staring at him and waiting for a reply.

"I see, and how much of what you heard today do you think is accurate representation of T'Pol?"

Trip curls his lip and looks away. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to make that assessment, after what heard today I'm not sure I really knew her at all. How do I even know if what she was feeling was real and not the result of a drug."

Phlox sighs. "The facts are, Commander, T'Pol has a terminal degenerative neurological illness. She also has some residual neurological damage as a result of exposure to trellium D, some of that exposure was deliberate. The neurological damage she has suffered makes it harder for her to suppress emotions. Everything else you heard today was conjecture by a person who does not know T'Pol very well at all."

"So how do we know when she's having real emotion and what's a result of the drugs and the damage?".

"I think you know better than that, Commander. They are all 'real emotions'. The trellium and the resulting damage do not produce false emotions, T'Pol is simply no longer able to effectively suppress all the emotions she already has."

Trip rubs his hand over his eyes. "So if she can't suppress all her emotions, does that mean she can't function, like the Vulcan psychiatrist claimed."

Phlox drops his head to the side and looks at him frankly. "Commander Tucker, you can't suppress all your emotions, can you still function."

Trip snorts. "Not according to Vulcans."

"Precisely, Mr Tucker."

He swallows, almost afraid to ask the next question. "What about the Captain?"

He flinches, he's pretty sure he just saw Phlox roll his eyes, which is not a common expression for the usually jovial Doctor. "Commander, I am certain T'Pol feels some affection for the Captain."

Trip feels a strange numbness come over him, as if he can't bear feeling anything if he has to bear the truth that she feels nothing for him.

"However, I also believe she feels some affection for me, and Ensign Sato, and Lieutenant Reed, and Chef, and even Porthos, for that matter."

Trip notices his name wasn't on that list, and he's pretty sure he rates above Porthos.

Phlox looks at him speculatively. "Commander, what do you know about Vulcan mating practices?"

Trip puts his tongue in his cheek and looks away. There's a loaded question if ever he heard one. The truth is: quite a bit and not a lot. "What do you mean by 'mating', Doc."

"I mean the cultural and biological mechanisms which influence the formation of pair bonds between Vulcan males and females with the ultimate goal of sexual reproduction."

Trip's relief is palpable, it's the 'not a lot' half of the answer. He leans against his kitchen counter and answers. "Not a lot, I know they get betrothed as children, that they often don't really know each other when they get married. But dating, falling in love, or whatever Vulcans do, not so much."

"Hmmm." Phlox's Look is somewhat unreadable. Trip has the uncomfortable feeling Phlox may know more about his relationship with T'Pol than he thought. "There is a strong telepathic component to Vulcan pair bonding which generally makes their bonds exclusive and permanent. Vulcans do not engage in casual relationships, they do not experiment with sex outside marriage, they don't cohabit with members of the opposite sex they do not feel a commitment to." As he says this he tips his head T'Pol's meditation cushion and candle sitting by the window.

Trip can't help himself. "You have to admit, Doc, she kind of went off the deep end when she thought the Captain had died."

"I believe you may find she was already "off the deep end" by the time we reached Azati Prime, Mr Tucker, by that time she had already been taking the trellium for three months and her emotional control was at its worst. What sort of reaction do you think she had when she thought you were going to die after your accident in the Expanse?"

"I can't answer that Doc, I was all but brain dead at the time."

"Think about what you know of the Sub-Commander, would she have taken such drastic action as chemically altering her emotional control without being prompted by a catastrophic event that she was struggling process in the usual way. Do the the math, Mr Tucker, what major event happened three months prior to Azati Prime?"

Trip bites his lip and nods his head, his accident, that's what. Then it dawns on him, the thought of his death was so terrible to her that she had to drug herself to cope. He folds his arms and looks at the floor for a minute, processing what he's just learned. He feels a rush of emotion, relief, that she did really care for him; guilt, that he was so quick to doubt her; frustration that she didn't even attempt to explain some of this herself. After a minute he looks back at Phlox "Thanks Doc, I think I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome Mr Tucker. Now, if you don't mind I should excuse myself."

Trip realises he hasn't been a particularly good host. He hasn't even offered Phlox a seat, let alone refreshments. His mother would tan his hide if she knew how bad his manners were. "Why don't you stay for a minute, Doc, have a drink?"

Phlox starts to walk towards the door "It's very kind of you Mr Tucker, but I have some personal matters to take care of." He turns and looks at Trip with one of his wide smiles. "As, I believe, do you. Goodbye Mr Tucker."

Had Trip known, he would have insisted Phlox stay.

He sits down on the sofa again, trying to match to match Fer'at's conclusions about T'Pol with what he knows of her and what Phlox has told him. She's definitely more emotional than she was, there's no doubting that. But even a more emotional T'Pol is still less emotional than any human he's ever met, even Malcolm.

She was pretty emotional at Azati Prime, even by human standards. But he can't really argue that the Captain was a pillar of logic, going off on a suicide mission. Nor can he say he held it together like a boss, both he and Malcolm were in favour of sending the whole ship in on a doomed for failure, suicide mission, she was able to function logically enough to point out the glaring errors in that plan. She pretty much pulled herself together after that. There were a few times she clearly got a bit emotional around him, but she still did her job and did it as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

That's when it hits him, she got emotional with him. When it was just the two of them, because she knew she could trust him. Except obviously she couldn't, because when she really needed him, when people were conspiring against her, he failed her and bought their lies hook line and sinker. A sense of urgency comes over him he has made a huge mistake and he needs to get in contact with her.

"I'm sorry Lady T'Pol checked out if the Vulcan Compound earlier today." The switch operator tell's him.

He is flooded with panic. She had already deduced this was coming yesterday. Because of who she is she would have planned for this outcome. "Did she leave any forwarding address or contact details?" He asks, already afraid to hear the answer.

"Our records indicate she has returned to Vulcan. Her transport departed at 1600 hrs today."

She's gone, he's already too late. It's 1645 hrs and Vulcan transports are never late, it's illogical. He sits down on the couch and puts his head in his hands. He is seriously considering booking a transport to Vulcan to chase her down when he hears the chime of his communicator. He gets a surge of irrational hope, perhaps she changed her mind. He tries to hide the disappointment when it turns out to be the Captain.

Archer is a man on a mission. He is going to fight this all the way, Forrest is on board as well and the Captain has an appointment to see Ambassador Soval the next day, he's taking Hoshi and Malcolm and wants Trip to come along. They are going to present a united front. The Captain sounds confident and driven. He's going to make this right. That confidence falters a little when Trip tells him T'Pol has already departed for Vulcan. Trip gets it, the whole thing seems more real, more final, knowing that she's gone. He agrees to attend the meeting even though he doubts they'll get much out of Soval, he's a company man after all. He will probably just toe the High Command line.

He terminates the call, sits on the couch and looks at his communicator. Willing her to ring him, to tell him she couldn't leave and needs him to collect her. But he knows that won't happen, it's not logical. The ringing doorbell gets his hopes up again only to be dashed again when he sees that it's just a courier.

Trip takes the package with some confusion, it seems to come from a framing company in town.

He opens the package and what he finds nearly stops his heart. Someone has taken the image of Shikahr and Enterprise, that Lizzy had sketched on her note to him, had blown it up slightly larger and arranged a collage of photos of Lizzy at all ages above it and framed it. With a lump in his throat he turns it over, there is a note on the back in unfamiliar writing.

 _Trip_

 _After the death of a family member or acquaintance of significance, Vulcans make a Vokau[1, a kind of icon, to represent the memories of the lost loved one. I perceive that this image, drawn by your sister, and the photos, reminded you of all the attributes of Elizabeth that you admired and prompted many happy memories of her life. I trust this Vokau will help you find contentment in the memories of your sister._

 _T'Pol_

He feels a tightening in chest as he comprehends the meaning of the gift, this is not the act of someone whose emotions are prompted by drugs or neural damage, this is an act of caring, of understanding, of love; and he just let her go.

He looks at Elizabeth's Vokau, and T'Pol's note and tries not to think about the fact that he has lost them both. He tries not to notice that it hurts to breathe.

 ** _Soval_**

He sits his desk at regards the group of humans gathered before him. He experiences a certain amazement at the different emotional expressions on each of their faces.

The female, Ensign Sato, looks saddened. There is a suspicious gleam in her eyes as if she is on the verge of tears. She is a fascinating creature, this human, there is no Vulcan equivalent for her talent for language, which seems to extend to an understanding of cultural norms and protocols. Humans are not routinely tested for psi abilities as the consensus is they do not possess them. But there has been some speculation that there is a telepathic component to her skill. Her fearfulness is also well known, although T'Pol had reported vast improvements over the course of Enterprise's deployment.

The shorter, dark haired male, Lieutenant Reed, is unreadable, almost Vulcan in his stoicism. Due his access to the V'Shar dossier on all Enterprise's crew, Soval probably knows more about the background of this human than any of his colleagues do. Lieutenant Reed's service in some of Earth's more covert organisations means he may be more well informed of the mechanism behind the action against T'Pol than any of his Enterprise brethren. Professionally confident, the Lieutenant demonstrates difficulty forming interpersonal relationships, perhaps as a result of his career in espionage.

Then there is the Engineer, Commander Tucker, intellectually brilliant, emotionally volatile, and perhaps the most lacking in self-confidence of all the officers on Enterprise. The Commander is showing signs of guilt. Not surprising it is very human to illogically assume responsibility for the questionable actions of others.

The Captain, however, looks determined and driven - confident. It is strange, this confidence, considering that the three humans who accompany him are probably more talented than him. He realises it is the confidence that makes Archer a good leader, he does not doubt himself. Perhaps amongst emotional species, leadership is a talent, like languages and engineering, and this confidence is part of it. It is actually more of a Vulcan attribute. Vulcans do not doubt themselves, humans, as individuals, are generally plagued by self doubt.

It is, he concludes, another difference between their two species. Vulcans are raised to believe in their own abilities, a Vulcan will assume another Vulcan is competent until proven otherwise. Conversely, humans will assume someone is incompetent until they demonstrate otherwise. Soval has noticed that humans constantly expect to have to prove themselves. It's something the Vulcan High Command has exploited to a certain extent over the years.

It is then he realises the most fundamental change to T'Pol. It is not her emotions, she was always more emotional than the average Vulcan. It is her loss of confidence. She no longer trusts her own judgement, her own logic. It is that aspect of humanity that has infected her the most.

The meeting proceeds largely as he expects, Captain Archer blusters and accuses and emotes, while Soval sits expressionlessly and tries to determine if there is any logic being communicated in the stream of words. Eventually the Captain comes to the end of his tirade. Soval has sorted the logic from the emotion and determined that the Captain has accurately identified the deliberate actions of High Command to have T'Pol return to Vulcan in disgrace.

He decides to show his hand somewhat to these humans. If the High Command pushes its unknown agenda too far, and risks the integrity of Vulcan in a way he is not prepared to tolerate, it may be useful to have more allies amongst the humans, particularly on their flagship. He can see that Archer is shocked by his candour, it is not congruent with the Captain's previous experience of Vulcans, they will rarely disclose dissent amongst their own ranks.

"So you're saying the High Command is corrupt?" The Commander is clearly struggling to grasp the subtleties of what Soval has revealed. He notices the slight twist in the Captain's mouth, clearly he is not so confused.

"That is not what I am saying at all, Commander. The actions of the High Command do not seem congruent with the good of Vulcan, which is illogical. It has become clear they are pursuing an agenda which is obscured. Until that agenda becomes transparent it behoves me to maintain the outward appearance of allegiance in order to maintain my position within the power structure."

"So that's why they got rid of T'Pol, because she bucked the system?" The Commander asks.

Soval takes a moment to process the meaning of the Commander's idiom. Even after so many years he is still often confused by humans' idiosyncratic use of language. "T'Pol followed her conscience, which would have seemed logical in the circumstances. She lacked the experience to see that highlighting the seemingly illogical behaviour of the High Command would make her a target of them. The High Command do not want to draw the attention of all Vulcans to their questionable rationale."

Archer gives Soval a thoughtful look, "So in theory, if we can convince Starfleet Command that the High Command persecuted T'Pol because of internal politics, we could get her reinstated?"

Soval suppresses a sigh, they still haven't made the final leap. "Captain, it is illogical to assume the High Command acted alone in this matter. It is clear Doctors Fe'rat and Soltan had full access to T'Pol's Starfleet medical records, that would not have been possible without the cooperation of Starfleet. I believe if we are to hope for a satisfactory outcome for T'Pol, baring a catastrophic change in Vulcan's political structure, you must pursue this from the Earth perspective."

"So you think Starfleet is also responsible?" The Lieutenant does not seem as outraged as Soval would have anticipated, more resigned in fact. Given his previous assignments he probably has less illusions about the innocence of Starfleet and Earth organisations in general.

"Not necessarily, I am suggesting that someone, or some organisation, with influence on Earth has derived some benefit from this situation. Unless you can determine what that is, our ability to assist T'Pol is limited." Soval can see awareness dawning on the Captain's face.

"So you're saying we can't get her back." The Commander persists.

Soval can't help but admire their loyalty to T'Pol, their reluctance to admit defeat, even against logic. "It is unlikely that T'Pol will return to Earth even if this matter is resolved satisfactorily, arrangements are being made for her to proceed with marrying her betrothed once she arrives on Vulcan."

"Koss!" The Commander's outrage is clear. "But she hates that guy." Even his crew mates seem surprised by the Commander's outburst.

Soval's eyebrow goes up. "Emotional attachments are not generally a factor in Vulcan marriages. Given T'Pol's altered personal situation, a satisfactory marriage may go some way towards re-establishing her status in Vulcan society."

Soval watches the Commander twist his mouth and look away with what Soval assumes is disgust. Humans typically have trouble reconciling the logical way in which Vulcans approach marriage, with their own emotional ideals. He's surprised T'Pol has even told the Commander about her betrothal.

The Captain rubs his hands over his eyes, and looks up at Soval, resigned to this outcome. "So we have to accept that we're unlikely to get T'Pol back, but for her sake, I think we should still try to clear her name."

This is the outcome Soval has anticipated as well. "I believe that is the logical conclusion, Captain."

The meeting concludes and Soval makes his farewells and watches the humans depart. He has taken a risk, revealing so much to them. He hopes his logic does not prove to be flawed. He realises how much tension he has been holding in his body and sits at his desk to take a moment to clear his mind of emotion, to relax and to breathe.

* * *

[ _1] Vokau - triangle shaped plate used to remember loved ones. I borrowed this idea directly from The Captives, by Panyasan._

XXX


	10. Chapter 9

**_Trip_**

He's back, on Enterprise, home. But it doesn't feel like home anymore. It feels hostile, like the well has been poisoned. He drops his bag in his quarters and looks a the bed. Last time he slept there she was with him. He finds it difficult to contemplate sleeping there alone.

He stands in the middle of the room and looks around, tying to figure out what has changed. Why he feels so out of place here, in this room, where he has slept, and cried, and dreamed, and worked and even made love. The only thing that has changed is him.

He palms the door and steps into the corridor. His feet take him to his destination seemingly without the instructions of his brain. Before he even realises where he is going he is in front of her door. He stands for a moment wondering why he is here. Eventually he presses his override code into the door panel and steps inside. The sent of her candles lingers in the air.

The room is the most chaotic he has ever seen it. The quartermaster has already assigned someone to begin boxing up her possessions to ship to Vulcan. It is a stark reminder of her absence, the permanence of it.

He flips open the flaps of one of the boxes. Her pillow sits on the top. He picks it up and holds it to his face, breathing in the smell of her. For a moment he considers taking it. He needs something of her, something he can hold to him, just to make it a little bit easier to get through the rest of his life.

He places the cushion back in the carton and flips it closed. Her attention to detail is too great. He probably couldn't even take a hair out of her brush without her noticing. She would likely complain to Starfleet, there would be an investigation, his presence in the room is recorded in the use of his override code. It would be embarrassing, for both of them. He probably doesn't deserve to have it anyway.

He palms the door and leaves. There's nothing for him here anymore.

He heads to Sickbay, perhaps Phlox can make him feel more at home. He notices the irony that it's Enterprise's two alien crew members he seeks out first. He is even more shocked by the state of Sickbay. All of the Doctor's creatures and plants are gone. An older human woman with a severe face greets him.

"Can I help you?"

"Where's Phlox? Who are you?" He blurts out, his shock rendering him rude.

"Dr Phlox has resigned. I'm Dr Kelly Martin, the new Chief Medical Officer." She tell him without preamble.

"Oh, okay. Wellcome to Enterprise." In a daze he turns and leaves, he's in the Turbolift heading to D deck before he realises he didn't introduce himself.

It's in Engineering that he finally finds an alien on Enterprise, it's not the positive experience he was seeking. And it is as he talks to this Vulcan, or rather, is talked down to by this Vulcan, that he realises why Starfleet was so prepared to get rid of T'Pol, what was in it for them.

He makes some excuse to get out of there and and retreats back to his quarters. His head is spinning. He stands against the window and presses his head against the cool glass. He can see Earth below and suddenly he longs for the fresh air and open space, and sunlight, and wind.

He thinks about what he's just learned, what it means to him, what it means to his life, his career. He realises what he is contemplating and wonders if he can do it, if he can even imagine a life without Starfleet, let alone live it. He knows he can, he is already imagining it.

For the first time in three years he feels claustrophobic on Enterprise. It feels like the walls are closing in on him. He feels like he can't breathe.

 ** _Malcolm_**

They're heading back to Enterprise to finalise details before Enterprise is sent to Jupiter Station for the refit. The debriefing nightmare is over, T'Pol is gone. He is sharing the shuttle with Travis and Hoshi. He's done some digging over the past couple of weeks, he had a good idea what had driven the action against T'Pol. He fills them in. They are both shocked and disgusted.

He mentions to them that Trip seemed to take the news about T'Pol pretty badly.

Hoshi is pretty sure that there was something far deeper than simple friendship between the Vulcan and Engineer.

"How can you tell?" He asks her, skepticism written all over his face.

Hoshi rolls her eyes. "I'm a linguist. It's not called 'body language' by accident." She tells him with more than a little exasperation. "You should talk to him, tell him what you've found out."

He wasn't sure how Trip was going take the news.

He finds him in the deserted mess hall, dressed in civvies, nursing a cold coffee, uneaten pie in front of him, staring out the window at Earth below. Malcolm sighs, they're all a little shell shocked by the events of the past few weeks but Trip seems devastated.

T'Pol was a tough egg to crack but somehow she'd managed to find a place amongst them. True, he's going to miss the view of that bum, but it's more than that. He is not a man who makes a lot of friends, but he considered her a trusted colleague, as close to a friend as a Vulcan could get he figures. He certainly doesn't think she's been treated fairly and that irks him.

"Hello mate, how's it going." He sits down at the table with Trip as he greets him.

Trip flashes him a sardonic smile. "Just peachy, Mal. How are you?"

Malcolm decides not to mince words. "I can confidently say I've been better."

Trip snorts in return but says nothing more.

Malcolm shifts forward in his chair and starts an intense study of his thumb nail. "Well, I've spoken to a few old colleagues who are... in the know, shall we say. They've been able to further enlighten me a little on the whole situation with T'Pol."

The look on Trip's face is pure venom. It takes a moment for Malcom to work out it's not directed at him.

"Let me guess, the Vulcans suddenly became all open and friendly about giving us some of their tech. I'm sure they had a few conditions, like discrediting T'Pol and getting her sent back to Vulcan with her tail between her legs as punishment for having the gumption to have an independent thought in her Vulcan brain."

Malcom is shocked at the accuracy of Trip's deductions. "That's pretty much what I found out, where did you hear it."

"I didn't need to hear it. I've got eyes in my face and a brain in my head. Once I met Skippy the Vulcan, in my engine room, who implied I wasn't clean or competent enough to scrub impulse manifolds in his presence let alone understand the intricacies of eighty year old Vulcan technology, I was able to put two and two together and get five."

Malcolm was having trouble keeping up. "Who's Skippy the Vulcan."

"That would be T'Pol's replacement, Sub-Commander S'Kypp, would you believe. He's an engineer and is going to spend the next month at Jupiter station helping to install all the nice shiny, obsolete Vulcan technology, Starfleet traded T'Pol down the river for."

Malcolm coughs down a laugh, he has a feeling it won't take long for the moniker 'Skippy the Vulcan' to be used pretty much universally on the ship. "Still, you have to admit, it's bloody nice of the Vulcans to give us someone whose name is so easy to bastardise."

Trip gives a wry smile, which is encouraging to Malcolm. At least his sense of humour isn't completely gone.

It fades quickly. "You know, all we really want from the Vulcans is to be treated as equals, like we belong on the galactic stage. Not like we're foolish children who accidentally built a warp engine and now we can't figure out how to drive it. I'd just like to see the Vulcan's acknowledge that we are capable of progressing on our own, on our own terms."

Malcolm thinks about T'Pol. She had brought her most Vulcan attitude to Enterprise three years ago, he was pretty sure they had earned her respect in the end. "Soval seems to and T'Pol definitely did." He says sadly.

Trip looks away for a second. "Yeah, she did. But I don't think the High Command conspired to take away her career and destroy her reputation so they could get her back home to award her the Vulcan Medal of Logical Thinking."

Malcolm nods in acknowledgement. "That goes without saying."

"You know what bugs me the most Malcolm? We don't need them looking over our shoulders, trying to help us forward while at the same time holding us back. We don't even need their tech. We're smart enough, and driven enough, and innovative enough to get there on our own.

Malcolm has nothing to say to that, it is the truth.

"That's the thing that makes me the maddest, Mal. Not the Vulcan's, they've always had their own agenda, I don't expect anything different from them. But Starfleet, we're all out here busting our guts and risking our lives for them, for Earth. Same was true for T'Pol and she owed Earth nothing. That they consider her so expendable, makes me wonder if they would the behave any differently for any of us in similar circumstances."

Malcolm decides to play Devi's advocate. "She was using the trellium. You and I both saw her, she wasn't herself at Azati Prime."

Trip snorts. "By that assessment the Captain and I should have been sent to Vulcan with her."

Malcolm's eyebrows go up. "What do mean? Were you all shooting up trellium together in the Captain's dinning room?" He quips, in rather poor taste he has to admit.

Trip gives another tight smile. "Let's face it Mal, I was barely holding it together for most of the time last year and the Captain: if he wasn't heading off on another suicide mission, he was pirating warp drives or cloning me. It's not surprising T'Pol couldn't cope, it probably seemed like she'd spent months trying to keep me or the Captain from throwing ourselves out the airlock, and all while struggling with a terminal illness."

Malcolm nodded in acknowledgement. "It was a difficult mission. I think everyone had their moments but it was especially hard on the three of you, for different reasons."

Malcolm paused, wondering whether to say more. "You know, I looked over all the records of Azati Prime. According to the Captain, the Reptilians knew we were there before he even left Enterprise to destroy the weapon. They discovered the destruction of the moon base soon after it happened. Unless we'd gotten out of there the second we destroyed that base, we were pretty much doomed as soon as we were scanned. As for the attack on Enterprise, I analysed the strategy, we were out gunned and out numbered. It would have taken a miracle for any Commanding Officer to get a ship out of that situation in one piece."

Trip nods and swallows. "That just makes it worse somehow." He says sadly.

Malcolm realises he has to agree.

After a moment he decides it's time to try and nudge Trip out of his funk. "So I guess we move on. We managed to extract the stick out of T'Pol's arse eventually. I guess we have to start working on Skippy's now." He quips.

Trip gives him a sad smile. "Winning all of Vulcan over, one stick at a time."

"That's the spirit mate, it's a big job so we'd better get started if we're going to have them all converted by Christmas." He slaps Trip on the shoulder as he says it.

Trip looks down and rubs his eyes. "I don't think I can do it anymore, Malcolm." He says quietly.

Malcolm feels a knot of worry form in his stomach. "What, converting Vulcans? Don't worry, we'll sick Hoshi on him, that girl can be like terrier when she sets her mind to something. Remember the lengths she went to, to find out my favourite food. Skippy doesn't stand a chance."

"I mean Starfleet, Mal. I've been with them for fifteen years now, my entire adult life. I've nearly died several times, I've had relationships breakdown, I missed my own sister's funeral, but I did it because I believed in what we were doing, I believed in Starfleet. But what they did to T'Pol, they could do to any one of us if it suits them. I don't trust them with my life anymore."

Malcolm presses his lips together in worry. "But you love your job."

"Yeah, well, you can love your job as much as you like, but it's never going to love you back."

The chirp of the comms means Malcolm doesn't get a chance to answer.

"Archer to Tucker."

Trip, crosses to the comm unit.

"Go ahead, Captain." He responds

Malcolm notices that Trip pronounces the Captain's name in full, not with the usual dropped sounds.

"Report to my ready room." Archer's voice sounds terse.

"On my way." Trip clears his table and starts to leave the room, Malcolm follows him.

"Any idea what that's about?" He asks Trip as they enter the corridor.

Trip stops suddenly and looks at him frankly. "He probably wants to discuss the resignation letter I sent Starfleet about thirty minutes ago." With that bombshell he heads off down the passage to the turbo lift.

Malcolm stands stock still, watching him depart. It's several moments before he remembers to breathe.

 ** _Archer_**

Still reeling from an uncomfortable comms call from Command, Archer can't help but feel a little resentment towards Trip for dropping him in it like that. He spends the five or so minutes it takes Trip to get from E Deck to the Bridge, stoking the fires of his rage. It's been a bad enough couple of weeks as it is, losing T'Pol and Phlox, without Commander Tucker getting all petulant and having a virtual sulk to Starfleet about having to share his engines with a Vulcan.

Once Trip is in the room, Archer doesn't waste time or spare words telling the Commander exactly what he thinks of this latest stunt. It's not enough that Trip has tendered his resignation, obviously a move to leverage against Sub-Commander S'Kypp, it's the damming assessment of the moral fibre of Starfleet that had Command so riled.

"You're lucky they don't bust you down to Ensign, Trip. What the hell were you thinking. You're lucky you're the best engineer in the fleet and they're willing to cut you some slack after a stunt like that." He looks at the Commander and realises that Trips pose has remained fixed for the entire tirade, back stiff, feet shoulder width apart, hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the back wall. He looks determined. What he does not look, is contrite.

"Are you finished Captain?" He asks, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice."

Suddenly Archer starts to feel nervous, as though maybe this wasn't Trip just shooting his mouth off to the Higher Ups, but a sincere expression of his intentions. "Yes, I am."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Trip's face doesn't change.

Archer swallows the ridiculous urge to refuse him. Tell him to hold his tongue so the can just go back to being two buddies exploring the galaxy, and forget about this latest episode. Just another hurdle in the race to explore space. But he knows he can't, there's too much water under the bridge. "Permission granted, Commander."

"Firstly Sir, it would illegal for them to demote me after I have formally tendered my resignation, Starfleet regulations and EU law are pretty clear about that. Secondly, I believe, I stated in my letter that I was not interested in remaining associated with an organisation that treats its loyal personal like commodities whose lives and reputations can be traded for goods and services. Thirdly, I'm not the best engineer in the fleet anymore, Captain. I just tendered my resignation and it wasn't a stunt."

Archer just stared at him for a minute, mouth hanging open. "Jesus, Trip! Are you serious, this is really it?"

Trip's hard expression suddenly softens a little at Archer's obvious shock. "Yeah, it really is. I can't stay with Starfleet anymore. Not after what they did to T'Pol."

Archer rubs his eyes, trying to see how things got so bad so quickly. They were heroes two weeks ago. "I can't understand why you couldn't come to me about this Trip. Maybe we could've worked something out."

Suddenly the fight goes out of Trip, he sits in the seat against the wall and rests his forehead on his clenched hands. He look up at Archer, imploring him to understand. "I didn't come to you because I didn't want you to talk me out of it. It's not about you, it's about Starfleet, I can't continue to give my loyalty to an organisation that sees us as something that can be sacrificed as it sees fit."

"Christ Trip, I knew you were close to T'Pol, but I never thought you would throw your career away for her."

"I'm not throwing my career away, I get at least ten job offers a week from the private sector." He looks away for a minute and takes a deep breath, then looks back. "And we were more than friends."

"Look, I know you knew her better than anyone on this ship, Trip. But are you sure you want to pass up the opportunity to get your hands on this tech."

"Jon, I 'knew' her better than anyone anywhere, and I don't want to touch something that came at the expense of her career and reputation."

Trip's emphatic tone and the rare use of his first name, suddenly caught Archer's attention. "Just how well did you know her?"

Trip takes another deep breath, and looks away again with his tongue in his cheek. "In the biblical sense, Jon; as in 'Adam knew Eve, and forth came Cain'."

The fight goes out of Archer, he's lost Trip and he knows it. He shakes his head and gives a dry laugh. "You and T'Pol, I wouldn't have predicted that when we launched three years ago. I guess it shouldn't be that much of a surprise, I did meet your son a couple of months ago." He presses his lips together and looks away for a second. "Was it serious?"

Trip puts his forehead back on his clenched hands. "Yeah, I think it was. But after what happened at that witch hunt, at first, I bought into everything they said about her and she saw it. So she went back to Vulcan and now she's going to marry someone else and I've just got to get on with my life."

"So you're leaving out of loyalty to T'Pol?"

"No, I'm leaving because of a lack of loyalty from Starfleet. Because they destroyed her, and what's to stop them doing the same to any one of us if it suits them?"

"It's not going to be the same without you, Trip."

"Yeah, I know Capt'n" for the first time since Archer called him in the mess hall, Trip uses the contracted pronunciation of his title. "But it probably wasn't going to be the same anyway."

Archer nods, "It probably wasn't." He agrees and watches as Trip gets out of the chair.

Trip heads to the door and turns to look at him a sad look on his face, "Command is probably going to want to meet with me for a debriefing and to hash out any final details of my departure. If you don't mind, I think it might be best if I catch a ride back Earthside with Travis on one of his runs this afternoon. So I'm going head back to my quarters and pack my things."

Jon, just nods again, and he watches silently as Trip leaves the room. He's suddenly finding it difficult to speak. He's suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

XXX


	11. Chapter 10

**_Trip_**

He stands in his living room, surrounded by the boxes that contain his life from the past three years and feels a strange inertia come over him. He realises that for the first time in seventeen years he doesn't have a project, for the first time in fifteen years he doesn't have a job.

He picks up the PADD on his coffee table, and as is his habit, goes straight to his messages. There is no action anymore, he selects all the work related messages and forwards them, en mass to Kelby. This stuff is not his problem anymore. He starts transferring personal stuff to his cloud account and deleting anything he doesn't want to keep. The email with the Houston job catches his eye again. It would only be half the dream, T'Pol won't be with him, but the project still looks interesting, it's closer to his family, and far away from here. A clean break. That's what he needs.

He calls the eccentric, billionaire owner on the number provided and is surprised when he answers personally. They talk for thirty minutes, The guy knows his stuff and is personally involved in R D with his company. Forty-five minutes after the call began, a full offer arrives in Trip's inbox.

The number of zeros makes his head swim and it includes all the perks. No need to worry about getting to Houston, just give them a call and he'll have the use of a private shuttle in a matter of hours, transfer to the shuttle port included. Got things to ship? Just box them up and call this number, they'll pick it up within twenty-four hours and bill it to the company. It's so easy.

Easy is what he needs right now. There is no space in his life for new regrets. He doesn't want to have to think too deeply about things, he doesn't want to think about what's happened, about what he's lost, about who he's lost. He doesn't want to get caught in a whirlpool of misery about where his life has suddenly ended up. If he loses any momentum he'll find himself sitting in a corner rocking. He wants a place to hide, a place where he has no history, a place with no memories of her. So he puts his thumbprint on the contract and sends it off. He calls the shipping company to collect his personal items the next day, he arranges for a shuttle to Houston for the next evening.

As expected, he is done with Starfleet the following day. They see no point in holding him to a notice period, he would have been on leave anyway. They require that he not take on a new position for a month. That's fine, he'll go visit his parents, do some fishing and diving, whatever; he can keep busy. The car arrives to take him to the shuttle port and he closes the door to his apartment without looking back. He doesn't leave a forwarding address with Starfleet, or any of his friends, or former colleagues.

It's not out of cruelty or indifference, he just needs a clean break. He is just trying to survive a situation he can't begin to understand. Because he feels like he's being pulled apart and all his effort goes into preventing that from happening. Because everything in his life takes effort. It takes effort to get up in the morning, it takes effort to go to bed. It takes effort, to think, to decide, to walk, to talk, to breathe.

 ** _T'Les_**

When Soval contacted her she was uncertain of what to make of the information he provided. That T'Pol's reason for returning home is complicated. That she has sustained damage while on her latest mission that has degraded her neural pathways. That she is emotional. That she may have formed an illogical attachment to a human.

T'Pol has always been more emotional than the average Vulcan. T'Les has hypothesised that the reason T'Pol had been able to stay amongst humans so long was because her more emotional nature. She had begun to get concerned that T'Pol may never return to Vulcan. She informs Soval that under the circumstances it is logical to complete the marriage to Koss. He agrees that it may be what's she needs to bring her back to logic.

When T'Pol does arrive home T'Les is surprised at her lack of resistance to the wedding, her lack of resistance to anything. She was warned by Soval that she would find T'Pol much changed. She expected her to be more emotional, more volatile, more unpredictable. If anything she is the opposite. When T'Pol reads the letter from Koss, she has no reaction. When he comes to the house to discuss the wedding, she gives no objection. When, surprised at how passive T'Pol is being and T'Les suggests that she could undertake the wedding negotiations on her behalf, T'Pol does not show the slightest interest either way. When she asks T'Pol why she is suddenly so willing to acquiesce to the marriage, T'Pol simply responds that it is logical.

In the days before the wedding she watches her daughter closely. T'Pol eats little, it is obvious from her demeanour that she finds the taste and smell of the food unpleasant.

"You have become too accustomed to human food, daughter." She chides. Once the implied criticism would have had her daughter bristling like a Ka-ran-zhi, giving T'Les the opportunity to criticise her emotions.

Now, T'Pol simply looks at her with dead eyes. "Perhaps." is her reply.

T'Pol seems to sleep too much. The daughter she remembered had always been full of energy. As a young child it had been a struggle to get her to settle for meditation and take on the quiet, economy of movement that is valued in a Vulcan. She had thirsted for knowledge, understanding, adventure. Now she has all the vitality of a stone.

T'Les has the disquieting thought that she would have preferred it if her daughter had arrived home more emotional, rather than like this. This T'Pol is so apathetic it is almost as if she is in stasis.

So the days pass and T'Les watches T'Pol sleep too much and eat too little, and accept too much and object to too little. She can't quite fight the feeling that her daughter's collapse is imminent. She can't quite suppress the worry that her daughter is somehow fundamentally broken and marriage to Koss will only make things worse. She can't quite suppress the concern that, for her daughter, it takes all the energy she has left to simply breathe.

XXX


	12. Chapter 11

**_Trip_**

He dreams he is at her wedding.

A tall, young Vulcan man steps forward to strike a gong.

She is as beautiful as ever. Her purple dress moulds to her body, a beaded veil is draped over her head. He could stare at her forever. He tries to reach out to touch her but she is too far away and he can't get closer.

The gong rings out again.

He is frozen in place. He can feel the oppressive heat of the desert planet. He can feel the pull on his body of the increased gravity. His lungs seem to gasp for oxygen in the thinner atmosphere.

The final toll of the gong announces her fate

He watches her walk towards the Vulcan man. He tries to call out to her. Begs her to come back to him but she can not hear him, he is too far away. She kneels in front of the Vulcan and they reach out their hands, touching two fingers together. He can feel his heart breaking.

On this hell of a planet, watching the woman he loves marry another man, how can he be expected to breathe.

 ** _T'Pol_**

The first gong calls her to the ceremony. It is a logical decision. There is nothing for her on Earth and very little on Vulcan. No other Vulcan would consent to marry her. That Koss is still willing is a surprise. She did not tell him of her Pa'nar Syndrome, or her neural damage, she certainly did not tell him about Trip. It is obvious to all Vulcans she meets that she has lost her logic. She has no profession, she has no logic, she has no t'hyla. This is the only option available to her to build something resembling a life on Vulcan. It will not be a happy life, there is no happiness without Trip. If she was a proper Vulcan happiness would not even matter. But she is not proper and now she knows the experience of happiness, it is cruel to live without it. But she will be as Vulcan as she can be. She will endure what she cannot suppress.

The gong rings out again. She steels herself, breathes deeply, suppresses what emotions she can. Her mother forced her to eat this morning and the food sits like a stone in her stomach. She tamps down on the rolling nausea and works on keeping her face neutral. She can feel her mother watching her intently, though her expression is neutral.

She knows she has become unpredictable. She cannot understand why the emotions are so much worse now than they were on Enterprise. She cannot understand her fatigue and her loss of appetite. There is a part of her, the confident, assured person that she used to be, who is telling her not to do this. She cannot muster the energy to listen to that person and carry out her instructions.

The final toll of the gong calls her to her fate. She does not hesitate, even she knows it would be illogical. There is no one to fight for her, no challenger to her fate. As she walks across the courtyard it almost as if she can hear Trip calling her, asking her to come back to him. Her stomach lurches. A sheen of sweat develops on her forehead as she fights to control the nausea.

She comes to stand before Koss and is filled with an unbearable sense of loss. This will be her life now. She looks at him, he is not objectionable, she even senses that he feels a certain fascination for her. It is not who he is that is the problem, it's who he is not. Her sorrow can no longer can be contained. Her eyes fill with tears, which spill over and run down her face.

She kneels and, as if in a trance, stretches out her hand, middle and index fingers extended while he mirrors her actions. They bring their fingers together in the ozh'esta. With the touch of the fingers come the touching of minds. She feels his conscious brush against hers and she feels a frantic urgency to retreat from him. Her katra shrinks away from his, her body revolts. The nausea she has been struggling against for weeks overcomes her. She retches suddenly, turns away from him and empties the contents of her stomach onto the flagstones in the courtyard.

Eventually the heaving subsides, she is left gasping for breath on the pavement. She feels gentle hands grasp her arms, helping her rise. She is so drained she can barely stand. She is led, stumbling and shaking, into the house. She can hear voices, her mother, a male, a second male. She cannot focus on their words, the whole world seems muffled. She is led to her room and helped onto the bed. She lies there, the sweat cooling on her skin and tries to breathe.

 ** _Koss_**

He tries not to see her tears. He knows of her illness, knows of her neural damage. He has hoped she would accept him. He has always been fascinated by her. More than he should be. More than is logical.

She is beautiful now, but it wasn't always so. As child she was too thin and all her limbs seemed too long for her body, her eyes and mouth too big for her face. He remembers pictures he saw once, of a strange Earth animal with long skinny legs and a ridiculously long neck, it reminded him of her as a child, everything out of proportion. He was mesmerised by her even then. Her emotions, always just out of reach, had him in their thrall even when they were children.

When she returned to Vulcan he tried to suppress the hope, tried to approach his betrothal logically. He was unprepared for how quickly she accepted. He had approached her expecting to have to coerce her, if nothing else, she was always suitably Vulcan in her self sufficiency. He almost experienced sadness at how quickly she agreed. Some fire in her has gone out. She doesn't even care enough to resist him.

But with her tears he feels something break within him. She will never truly be his. For his own contentment, for hers, he should let her go. He cannot resist the opportunity to touch her mind, just once. To feel the storm he has always sensed within her. He knows as soon as he touches her, as soon as her katra retreats from his in rejection and revulsion. She could never have been his, she had belonged to another from the day she was born. Everything he had felt from her, the fire, the passion, the unrest; it had always been her katra driving her onwards, compelling her to find her other half.

He watches passively as illness overtakes her. He is not unkind, he knows there is very little he can provide for her except perhaps her freedom, either that or his family's reputation. He can't determine which would be more useful to her. Her mother and cousin guide her to the house. The rest of the wedding party follow. The Doctor is summoned. He rises from the cushion in the courtyard and follows the group into the house. He resolves to help her in any way he can because he is not unkind. Even though, just a little bit, she has broken his heart. Even though, just a little bit, it hurts to breathe.

 ** _T'Les_**

The Doctor runs the medical scanner over T'Pol and looks at the results when it beeps. As he processes the information, his eyebrows raised. He packs the scanner into his bag, closes it and starts to head to the door.

"Aren't you going to treat her?" T'Les asks, puzzled by his behaviour.

"She has Pa'Nar Syndrome, there is no treatment." He tells her as he departs the room.

The nature of T'Pol's condition is something of a surprise. She is not, however, surprised her daughter did not inform her of her of it. They have never had a close relationship. T'Les was always harder on T'Pol for her more emotional nature than her father. Her father had indulged her nature somewhat.

Fortunately the cure for Pa'Nar is more simple than the High Command would have all of Vulcan believe. T'Les does not even marvel over the irony that she joined the Syrranites in an attempt to understand her daughter's nature and now that association will save her life. This is the chaotic nature of life and does not warrant wonder or speculation. T'Les does suppress a surge of annoyance at the Doctor's failure of logic and ethics. She is also uncertain of Soval's logic in neglecting to provide her with this piece of information. But there is no rationale for dwelling on either issue and she exits the room to make arrangements.

She has known Saros for several years and it he who first introduced T'Les to the Syrranite practice of melding. She sees no logic in delaying treatment and requests his presence immediately. Her Vulcan discipline is almost shaken by the news of what he learns from the meld. It seems there was much Soval did not reveal, if he was even aware. She is not certain her daughter will ever feel at home on Vulcan now, but does not know if there will be a place for her on Earth either. It is certainly logical to locate this human, whom her daughter knows so well and determine what effect this state of affairs will have on him.

She is shaken from her thoughts by Koss entering the room. She prepares herself for a difficult conversation. It is hard to believe her daughter's betrothed will accept this news with equanimity.

She is surprised for the third time that day. Koss displays rather more insight into the nature of T'Pol's various conditions than she believed possible. What's more he is strangely willing to accommodate T'Pol in whatever function she and T'Les believe he could be most useful.

Once he is gone T'Les finds herself unsure how to advise her daughter. Continuing with the marriage would certainly provide T'Pol with stability and help to redeem her reputation. But the other circumstances would likely make the marriage untenable to T'Pol, and her compromised emotional control would make it obvious to all around her. She could foresee that it would be an unsatisfactory marriage for both the groom and the bride, neither getting what they wanted or needed from the union.

"Well Mother, what do you recommend?" T'Les turns to her daughter, her expression fixed.

"I was not aware you were conscious, Daughter." It is unlike T'Les to prevaricate but she did not want T'Pol to know that she was unable to discern the logical path.

"I have been awake for some time, Mother."

"I surmise Saros appraised you of what he learned in the meld, and that you overheard the conversation with Koss."

"That is an accurate deduction."

"And you seek my council on how you should move forward?" T'Les is surprised again that day. It is a long time since T'Pol had relied on her mother's logic over her own.

T'Pol looks away for a moment and releases a deep breath. "I believe my logic has repeatedly failed me of late, Mother. I find I am unable to rely on my ability to make a decision that is not an emotional one."

T'Les feels a strange pain in her chest at T'Pol's confession. As unVulcan as it was, she had always had such spirit, such vitality. It is obvious Koss was attracted to it, and perhaps this human Commander as well. She realises it hurts to see her beloved daughter so broken. The love one feels for one's child will never be fully suppressed.

She thinks of the suffering her daughter would face separated from her bondmate for the rest of her life and realises the course on that matter is clear.

"I believe under the circumstances we should attempt to contact this human you have bound yourself to. It is likely that he is suffering the effects of this situation as well. We should also consult experts and gain their guidance." She informs T'Pol briskly.

T'Pol's expression remains fixed. "And Koss?"

T'Les does not know how to answer, the marriage would be logical for so many reasons, but could T'Pol even survive a marriage to one man if she is bonded to another. It seems likely T'Pol would not thrive under those conditions. It would be like a prison, a straight jacket. it would be like not being able to breathe.

XXX


	13. Chapter 12

_I used the Vulcan Language Institute for all my translations into Vulcan._

* * *

 _ **Soval**_

It would be a lie to say he was not surprised by T'Les' most recent communication. As it transpires his estimation that T'Pol had not formed an inappropriate attachment to Captain Archer was correct. He would not have predicted a relationship with the volatile Commander, even for a relatively emotional Vulcan like T'Pol. But a bond, he was not even aware it was possible with a human. He wonders how much of her new emotionality and her loss of confidence is from the close psychic connection she now shares with Commander Tucker.

Naturally, given his commitment to assist her, he agrees to contact Tucker on behalf of T'Pol and attempt to explain the situation. He suppresses some discomfort at the thought of discussing something as private as Vulcan matebonds with an off-worlder. He reasons that as the Commander is party to a bond he is entitled to information about it. As it turns out it is all for nothing.

He has his secretary, Savan, contact Starfleet and request contact details for Commander Tucker. He has to suppress annoyance when Savan comes back and informs Soval that a receptionist has advised him that there is no Commander Tucker working at Starfleet. Savan has only been working on Earth for a few weeks and is unfamiliar with the brinkmanship that is the hallmark of current Earth/Vulcan relations. He has Savan contact the Vulcan liaison officer at Starfleet to obtain the information.

He becomes suspicious when Savan comes back again with exactly the same information. He attempts to make contact with Captain Archer, but when that proves fruitless he has to remind himself that the Captain has just completed a gruelling debriefing and has likely taken leave. Finally he has Savan put him in contact with Admiral Forrest. it seems excessive to approach an Admiral to obtain a subordinate officer's contact details but it is illogical to waste further time attempting to wrestle the information from junior staff.

When Admiral Forrest informs him of Commander Tucker's resignation, Soval is disturbed. He reasons that life may become complicated for both T'Pol and Mr Tucker. Soval is aware that under the circumstances, which the former Starfleet Officer can not possibly understand, the bond can influence behaviour in unusual ways. An incomplete, unsustained matebond will often result in irrational behaviour. Regretfully, Admiral Forrest has not been made aware of Mr Tucker's current location or his future plans.

Admiral Forrest is patently annoyed at the attrition that has resulted from the treatment of T'Pol. The Admiral admits he is still investigating those circumstances and it has been determined that T'Pol's dismissal was driven from outside Starfleet, by someone reasonably high up in the government. This is not a surprise to Soval either. It seems logical, given the anti-alien sentiments that are becoming prevalent on Earth, that someone pursuing that agenda within Earth's government has utilised this situation to remove an alien from a prominent role within Starfleet. The guarded expression on Admiral Forrest's face when he says this, informs him that his speculation is close to correct. He wonders how deeply individuals who carry these sentiments are embedded in Earth's bureaucratic infrastructure,.

He contrives to come into contact with some of the crew from Enterprise to subtly probe them as to Tucker's whereabouts. He is taken aback when he learns Mr Tucker has not informed them of his plans either. Clearly, Charles Tucker III has cut all ties.

It is at this point that he contacts T'Les and informs her, that he has been unable to locate Mr Tucker as he is no longer working within the organisation and has left no contact details with his former employer or acquaintances. Soval advises her that he has elected not to disclose any information about the bond to any of his human contacts at Starfleet. It his his estimation that T'Pol's privacy has been compromised enough within Starfleet and he has his suspicions about the data integrity of the organisation . He will instead pursue private avenues to see if he can locate Mr Tucker.

After terminating the call he contemplates the situation these two young people have inadvertently found themselves in. He foresees difficult times ahead for both of them. Their souls, linked as they are, will not allow them to forget about each other. It would be easier to forget how to breathe.

 _ **T'Pol**_

She is unsure how to take the news of Trip's resignation from Starfleet. She does not know if it is significant that he has not informed any of his former colleagues of his whereabouts. There is no logic to assist her to determine the motivation of an emotional decision. Are his actions an effect of the bond, or is he trying to remain hidden from her, after all, she saw his look of disgust. She is certainly disgusted with herself, she is finding it harder and harder to face life without him.

With no way to locate her bondmate, T'Les gathers a trusted group of various experts in various fields to approach the rather unique situation T'Pol finds herself in. The experience is equal parts distressing and mortifying, made even worse by the fact that she is unable to suppress either emotion. Still recovering from the stressors of the past weeks, the nausea and weakness continue to plague her. This makes it even harder to control her emotions, a source of further mortification.

Amongst the group are those who view her situation with frank curiosity, and are interested from a purely scientific perspective. Their dispassionate appraisal of the circumstances and possible outcomes irks her.

Then there are some who consider termination the most logical course of action. T'Pol is outraged, and in her weakened state, it prompts another bout of illness. Her mother holds her head tenderly while she retches. When she recovers, she refuses emphatically to agree to anything that will forfeit his life.

It is Koss, who has remained involved, who points out the obvious. The effect, on both T'Pol and Mr Tucker, of such drastic action is unknown. The option is promptly discarded as illogical if all parties involved are at risk from the procedure. Even though he has defended her she wishes she could make Koss leave, circumstances prevent her from doing so.

When a general discussion ensues on the the topic of her Pon Farr and the impact her hybrid bond may have on it, she realises she truly understands the phrase "died of embarrassment". There is a lively (by Vulcan standards) debate about whether she will even enter Pon Farr with a human mate. This is followed by a fascinating discussion about the capability of a human to adequately service a Vulcan female in Pon Farr. At this point the collected experts look at T'Pol expectedly, as if there is a chance in the universe that she would even contemplate answering that question, assuming she even knew the answer.

Eventually a consensus on how to move forward is reached and specialists agree to work with her to manage the situation and while she finds it distasteful that their interest in her unusual circumstances almost borders on glee, they are nonetheless committed to a successful resolution.

Soval will continue to work discretely on Earth to locate Commander Tucker, who she supposes is just Mr. Tucker now. Her job is to focus on her health, the incomplete bond will make things more difficult, even dangerous for her.

It takes all her effort to mentally turn away from the bond, to not focus on the spiritual place where she can feel his soul touching hers now the Pa'Nar Syndrome has been healed. The priest has warned that she must be disciplined, separated from her mate like she is, the bond will be like a third person in the relationship, and will always be pulling on her trying to get her to her mate, but because she does not know where to find him, it could take her to place of madness.

By the time the collected group departs she is exhausted and overwrought and her mother remains in the room with her and strokes her forehead in the same manner she did when T'Pol was a child and overcome with fever, and recites the simple verse she once used to soothe her energetic daughter to sleep:

 _Esh-tor pi'kushal, Esh-tor_

 _Kal-tor yuk sarlah_

 _Nash-a'tja mu-yor ri dungi-shi-kar Lanka-ga_

 _Breathe little bird, breathe_

 ** _Trip_**

He dreams.

He dreams she is sick. She lies on a bed, skin grey, cheeks sunken. He can hear other voices, he feels like he should be able to understand them but it's like they are speaking pig Latin. She wretches suddenly and a woman helps hold her head while she vomits into a bowl.

She lies back on the bed, the voices continue.

" _Rai_!" She sounds drained but emphatic, as she responds to their illegible communications. " _Rai, ri dungi-sep-wafikh nash-veh!"_

He wakes up, heart pounding in fear.

He dreams.

He dreams he is surrounded by white. He finds her there, sleeping. She is dressed in his sweatshirt, face buried in his T-shirt.

He wakes wishing he had something of hers to comfort him

He dreams he is in the white space again. She is dressed in traditional robes, the fabric billowing out around her as she sits in her meditation pose.

"Why are you here?" she asks.

"You left me." He accuses her.

"Only because you did not trust in me."

He wakes up angry.

He dreams, the white space again. She is there.

"I'm sorry." He tells her

"Sorry is just a word." She replies.

He wakes up confused.

He dreams. More white space and her.

"You should have told me." He tells her.

"Would it have made a difference?"

"Yes. You asked me to trust you, but you didn't trust me."

He wakes up feeling betrayed.

He dreams. White. Her

"You married someone else?" He implores.

She looks away. "I have no job, no reputation, no control over my emotions. I am just trying to survive."

He wakes up feeling regret.

He dreams, hoping for the white space. She is gone as soon as he arrives.

He wakes up feeling numb

He dreams he is in the white space again. In the dream he wakes from a deep sleep. He is lying on the ground with his head resting in her lap. She is combing her fingers through his hair. He looks up at her with longing.

"I miss you." He tells her.

"I miss you too." She replies.

A tear collects in the corner of his eye and runs down to his ear.

She lifts her hand from his hair and wipes it away. "Shhh, sleep now." He thinks he can hear love in her voice.

He wakes up feeling whole for the first time in months.

He dreams.

He dreams he is on Enterprise, but it is Enterprise like he has never seen it before. It feels like the ship is alive and breathing, he can hear its heart beating. He feels safe and loved.

He wakes up feeling cherished

He dreams he is in her quarters for a neuro-pressure session. He can feel her hands, warm and strong, pressing into the nodes on his back. He feels his anger, his sadness, his loneliness all leaving him. All he is left with is the memory of her. He falls asleep in the dream

He wakes with no memory of the dream but he feels more alive than he has months.

He dreams.

He dreams he is holding a sleeping baby with olive skin, slanted eyebrows and delicately pointed ears. Suddenly she is sitting next to him.

He looks at her sadly "Is it yours?"

"Yes, he is." She replies. She rests her head on his shoulder but does not take her eyes off the infant.

"What's his name?" He asks, watching as the baby screws up its tiny face in sleep.

"He is named for his father," She reaches out her hand and her fingers caress the baby's soft cheek. "Charles Tucker IV."

The baby stirs awake and stares up at him with impossible blue eyes.

He wakes up with tears drying on his cheeks.

He dreams.

He dreams they are in the command Centre, on Enterprise. She looks at him, stance alert, face neutral, posture erect. This is her working mode.

"Do you have a problem that requires my assistance?"

He wants to reach out to her, run his hands over her beautiful face, skim lines of her body, pull her against him. Instead he turns to the schematic of the GFDM he is designing for the prototype.

He leans back in his chair and indicates the diagram with one hand "Just trying to bend the laws of physics. Any suggestions?"

"Don't try." She replies tonelessly, looking over his shoulder at the draft.

He snorts, "Yeah well that's what they pay me for these days."

She looks closely at the schematics. "This design only has one pair of matter/anti-matter injectors and your plasma containment vessel is relatively small compared to the total reactor size. How are you adjusting the production of plasma to ensure a steady supply to the nacelles?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "That's where physics keeps screwing me. I've come up with an efficient intermix formula, but a method of controlling it with the single pair of injectors is eluding me."

"Perhaps if you were to utilises variable-compression nozzles on the injectors."

He wakes suddenly, the dream still turning in his head and realises he just solved a major design problem.

He dreams.

He dreams he is sitting in the sunshine on the balcony of his apartment in Sausalito, eyes closed, basking in the warm sun. A shadow falls over him. He opens his eyes to find her standing in front of him, outlined with a halo of sunlight. His breath catches in his chest. She crawls into his lap and straddles his hips. He looks up at her, squinting into the sun. She puts her arms around his neck and looks down at him for a few moments before she kisses him. He puts his arms around her and pulls her tight against him.

He doesn't want to wake up. She kisses him until he can't breathe.

 **XXX**


	14. Chapter 13

_Alright folks, pop your Prozac and read on._

* * *

 ** _Malcolm_**

"You're sure about this, Lieutenant-Commander?" The Captain looks at him, and waves a PADD in his direction.

"Yes, Sir." He responds. "It was Hoshi who alerted me. "She was thinking about T'Pol, wondering how Starfleet knew to look at T'Pol's medical records. It's not standard procedure after a mission. That's when she found evidence of the breach and brought it to me."

"You got someone to verify all this."

"Yes, Captain. I asked Skippy..." Malcolm sees the look on the Captain's face and corrects himself. "I mean, Sub-Commander S'Kypp, I reasoned he would be clean, given he wasn't on the ship at the time of the breach and because he's not, well, human. I didn't tell him what it was about though, just got him to check my results"

"So, these three crew members have been feeding information, among other things, to this group since before we went to the Expanse."

"Yes, Captain. It started shortly after we returned to Earth after the Xindi attack. That's when the genetic material was extracted. The second data breach occurred immediately after we returned from the Expanse. I looked at everyone who's been on the ship and had access to the data since then. These are the only three people linked to it."

The Captain nods but Malcolm can see the fury etched on his face. He feels the same way. He's lived with, and worked with, and grieved with, and celebrated with these people for over a year. The sense of betrayal runs deep. T'Pol is gone, Phlox is gone, Trip is gone, the trust is gone, all because of the actions of these three colleagues.

"Who knows about this?" The Captain asks.

"Aside from myself and you, just Hoshi and S'Kypp."

"Keep it that way. I've spoken to Admiral Forrest about this. This ties into a larger investigation that has gone well beyond T'Pol's dismissal. Planning is in place for a decisive strike, but we don't want to tip our hand by moving early against these three. Keep a eye on them but don't give anything away. We'll act when we receive orders from Command."

Malcolm mouth is a hard line as he swallows his protest. "Yes, Sir." He knows the Captain doesn't want these traitors roaming free on the the ship any more than he does. But it makes sense to keep them under surveillance until Command is poised to take down the whole network.

"Dismissed." Malcolm turns and heads to the door. "Oh, and Malcolm." He turns and looks back at the Captain. "Good work."

"Thank you, Sir." Malcolm nods his head. It doesn't feel good. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to know just how much they have all been betrayed. He feels such outrage he can hardly breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _T'Pol_**

She has taken to counting. The stairs from the road to her compound entrance, twenty-eight. The number of breaths it takes for her to enter meditation, six. Hours per day at work, four. Minutes by hover-car to the academy, seventeen. The total number of errors she has found in her superior's work, twenty-two. Days since the wedding, seventy-three.

Her waking life is occupied by this strange accounting of the inconsequential moments of her life. As if she can find some meaning, some logic in the yawning emptiness that is her existence, if she can fill it with numbers, hundreds and hundreds of empty, meaningless numbers. There is only one number that really matters: ninety-nine .

Days since she last saw him, ninety nine.

She is not happy. She should not even experience happiness. But, she experiences unhappiness, so it does not seem unreasonable to wish for happiness, no matter how unlikely.

In the months since the turmoil of the wedding she has managed to find a certain kind of emotional equilibrium. It is not the steady, emotionless state of a true Vulcan. That level of discipline is forever beyond her. But it is a life in which the outward expression of emotion is minimised. The counting helps, she does not even realise this is a method provided to young human children to help them manage their feelings.

She has found a way to let the small emotions of everyday life to wash through her without requiring expression. The pleasure of a good meal or a problem solved. The petty annoyance of being thwarted in small desires, when the local grocer ran out of plomeek, when the hover-taxi was two minutes late. It is possible to experience these emotional blips without the countenance of doing so. They are not repressed, but they are not expressed either, just felt.

The large emotions, the despair of her current condition, the yearning for her mate, the fear for her future, she is able to keep these tumultuous feelings locked down tight, provided she meditates thoroughly morning and night. The greatest obstacle is that it is often difficult to find the necessary peace for effective meditation.

Because during meditation, the state of mind is naturally open, the bond is expressed in its most intense form, often pulling Trip into her consciousness. In this, their most raw emotional state, they seem incapable of communicating to each other what they truly want, instead they hurl blame and recriminations at each other. The hurt and betrayal each of them feel, demanding to be expressed. As unsettling as these encounters are she finds it difficult to give up these discordant confrontations, even this interaction with him is better than nothing.

Eventually the effect on her emotional life is too profound. She finds the only way to deal with these reunions is to retreat from them and keep attempting meditation until, for whatever reason, he is not drawn into her mental space. Conversely, some days she longs for him. Unsettling as the confrontations are, nonetheless, his absence from her white space is akin to losing one of her senses.

Sometimes even the mental contact is unsatisfactory and she craves his physical touch so completely that she skirts the edges of the madness she was warned about. On these nights she puts on his sweatshirt and hugs his T-shirt to her and tries not to cry herself to sleep with the cruel understanding she would have never sought emotions if she'd known that this was what loneliness felt like.

But it is the dreams she relishes most. Almost every night she is pulled into the nocturnal wandering of his subconscious mind and it is startling how frequently she is the main subject of his inner world. It is in these shared dreams that she gets to relive the romance, the heartache, the passion, the wonder, and the loss, that was falling in love with Charles Tucker III.

In these dreamscapes her emotions belong to both of them and she gives them freely. In these dreams she finds more peace and self acceptance than she has ever had, either before or after the trellium. It is the dreams that truly maintain her equilibrium. She wakes almost every morning, having spent the night cocooned in his dream love, and it is that love that keeps her alive, that keeps her counting, that allows her to continue living a life that is, at least on the surface, Vulcan. It is that love that means she can continue to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Trip_**

It is still dark when he pulls his car into his dedicated car park and and walks towards his office. He knows that the joke among his staff is that years of living on a starship have caused him to be too accustomed to living at work and now he can't get used to the fact that he can have a life outside his engines. Externally he laughs along with them, part of the elaborate act he has slipped into to appear like a normal person. Internally he doesn't want to acknowledge that the reason he works so much is because it is the only time, other than when he's asleep, that he is able to turn his back on the yawning emptiness that has opened up in his life since he lost T'Pol.

He is amazed himself, at his ability to act like the person he used to be. Somehow he jokes with his new colleagues, gently mentors the young engineers under his guidance, and flirts harmlessly with the women from the office who occasionally drift down from marketing and accounting and Human Resources to interact with the handsome, exotic, spacefaring hero that now runs the R and D department. But he can't shake the feeling it is all an elaborate act. That he does it because that's the person the job needs to get these people woking effectively for him. As if this joking, mentoring, flirting person is just a habit and he does it without thinking, but the real him, the broken, lonely shell that remains after T'Pol, is watching this performance and shaking his head.

He doesn't contact anyone from Starfleet, he knows it's unfair. They were good friends and probably wonder what happened to him. He is aware he can't maintain the facade with them. He knows that they know him and would spot the crumbling core behind his shiny exterior. So he hides his hollow soul in the anonymity of people who did not know him before so can't see how he's changed.

At least he has the work, the real work that is, designing this engine. They had some great concepts already in place and he was able to improve it within days of arriving, much to the delight of his new boss. Work is probably the only thing that is keeping him sane, aside from the dreams. So he generally arrives at work at five a.m. when he can get a couple of hours in, and he doesn't have to be reasonable and charming, and personable, and feel like fraud while he does it. He sometimes wonders why this time is so important to him, why he's so keen to have this time to be this person he knows his colleagues wouldn't want to get to know. Because even though he hates the fraud that he perpetuates on his co-workers on daily basis, he has not interest in letting them know the real him, because he doesn't really want to know himself anymore.

He doesn't just work, he socialises He goes to his club and plays racquetball and works out. He's often invited to join other members for a meal which he frequently accepts. Most Friday nights he and the other singles on his team go to a local bar where they drink, and play pool, and talk it up, and flirt with whichever gender works for them, and laugh at each other's successes and failures. He is often invited to barbecues, family affairs, where he plays friendly games of football, and wrestles throngs of small children, and cooks over an open flame and gently fends off suggestions of divorcees he could date. His boss is a personable guy who has invited him sailing on a couple of weekends and they ride the breeze and shoot the breeze like they've known each other for years. He thinks it should feel like he has a full life, but he gets home after every single one of these various social encounters and wonders just who the hell he was while he was there.

It feels like all these people should be friends, he suspects they think they are, or at least are working towards being so, given the short amount of time they have known him. But he can't seem to shake off the feeling that he is living on the surface of this life. As though he's observing himself living it but not really experiencing it. He puts so much work into maintaining his air of normalcy that sometimes he can't understand why it doesn't take, why it doesn't just become a real life, why he can't get over the idea that he is somehow incomplete no matter what he does.

The only time he feels like his real self is in the dreams. At first when he starts dreaming of her it is the strange, cloud-like space. What stands out to him the most in these visually bland but emotionally explosive encounters, is the intensity of the feeling. The emotions are so raw and unfiltered that everything he feels is akin to feeding pure oxygen to a fire. All the things he really wants to say to her, how much he misses her how much he loves her seem to get lost in whatever raging emotion the dream unleashes that night. The dreams never last long before the intensity of the feeling pulls him into consciousness and he often has to get up and go for a run or work on something to take his mind off the residual sensation of the nightmare.

As days pass to weeks the dreams lose the emotional intensity but became more visually acute and physically tangible. Mostly they take place on Enterprise, occasionally at his apartment in Sausalito, less likely some other location he has never been with her. These imaginings have more of a dreamlike quality but he wakes up with the feeling that she had really been there, that he really was talking to her and touching her. Although his sleep is better, and the dreams give him, at least the illusion of relief from living without her, waking each morning is a double edged sword that cleaves to the depth of his soul as he finds and loses her again on a nightly basis. But the grief of losing her repeatedly does not outweigh the comfort of being with her again so he welcomes sleep like he never has before, even though waking is as close to physical pain he could get without injury.

There are some mornings when he lies in bed contemplating another day of this exhausting, faux existence and wonders where he is going to find the will to do it all again. Somehow, he's never sure how, he finds some untapped reserve of energy that allows him to push through the inertia that marks each new day. Mostly he tries not to contemplate this existence he has found himself in. It's better not to stare too hard into the abyss, he doesn't want to know what might be staring back.

But every now and again he wonders if this is what it will be like for the rest of his life, and if that's case, how long he can keep on going. He wonders if there is a point in time that he will give up, give in to the feeling that he will never be complete again and just stop trying. He's not even sure if he fears that day. But for now the dreams are enough to keep him going. The memory of her, but also the knowledge that she is out there in the universe, living and breathing and being herself. He realises that he hasn't lost all hope of getting back to her somehow, that some day, some miracle intervention will bring them together again. Until that day all he has to do is keep on going, keep up the pretence that he is a part of life, put one foot in front of the other and breathe.

 **XXX**


	15. Chapter 14

**_Major Le Clerc_**

Major Le Clerc feels the prickle of his skin as his corporeal form materialises around his soul. The process is an existential quandary that he can never quite resign himself to without questioning where his consciousness exists while his physical form is reduced to fragments of energy. He shakes off the feeling and chides himself again for his stray into philosophy at university. He came out it with a degree but no job to back it up and finally pleased his father by following family tradition and joining the military. Even though he is a good soldier the philosophy is an interest that he has never been able to shake and he has come to be known as ' _Professeur_ ' to superior and subordinate alike.

His reflections on the philosophy of transporter units is cut short by the full return of sensation to his extremities. From the perspective of a soldier, metaphysical implications aside, this is the thing he hates the most about transporters, the slight lag between physical presence and returning sensation. It is a dangerous vulnerability. Hopefully the recon team he had inserted three weeks ago have done their jobs and there is no one here who can take advantage of it.

He transported with his weapon up, ready to defend against any attack that may be forthcoming and in his periphery can see the other members of his team doing the same. Not due to any perceived threat, just the habits of training.

"Professeur, Sir?"

The light mounted oh his phase riffle picks out two unarmed men, dressed in heavily padded khaki coveralls with utility belts. He lifts the riffle slightly, illuminating their familiar faces.

"Park, Stanic, is this location secure?"

"Yes, Sir."

He drops his weapon in response, but his team remain on alert. "Stand down." He instructs them as he secures his weapon and walks towards Park and Stanic. "You two gear up, it is time for the real work to begin."

Within a few minutes he's standing with Park and Stanic looking over a schematic of the facility while Park briefs him.

"We placed transporter tags in the locations highlighted with the yellow crosses. By our analysis that should give us the best strategic locations for taking the base with minimum loss of life."

The Professeur nods and looks at the schematic. "Wilson, how long before the other teams are in place?" He asks without taking his eyes off the PADD.

"Just waiting for White Fox and Cobra to check in, Sir." Wilson replies. "Ten minutes tops."

He nods again. It's a complex location. A lot of places for people to hide, he'll have to trust his recon team on this one. The intention had been to extract Park and Stanic before the raid so they could have had this information in advance. But some intel had blown in from Section 31 that something big was being planned at this location which had bought the whole operation forward by a month. He sighs at the thought of Section 31, it's always an ill wind that comes from the direction of that particular organisation. His eyes narrow as some something catches his attention on the blueprint.

"Park, what the hell is this?" He asks pouting to a spot on the schematic. He's not a fool, he knows exactly what it is.

"It's a warp core, Sir."

"You are kidding me. This whole base can pick up and warp out, leaving everyone below sucking vacuum. I hope you have done your job and come up with a way to neutralise this." He's sure they have, he doesn't keep soldiers on his team that can't think, but it doesn't hurt to ride their asses every now and again.

"Yes, Sir." Park points to a location on the schematic. "This is an auxiliary power generator that links into the warp core and impulse engines. The impulse drive and matter/anti matter injectors draw power from here for their start-up phase. If we place a couple of small charges, here, " he points to a location on the diagram then shifts his finger to another location. "And here, we'll disable the generator, without power to the engines and they won't be able to start them up."

"Good thinking, Sargent."

Park gives a wry smile, " _Je pense, donc je suis, Professeur._ " It's the unofficial motto of his unit.

He gives a small smile. "You are correct, Park. This auxiliary generator, it is not linked to any essential services, no?"

Park twists his mouth a bit. "Not as far as we can tell," he points to another location on the diagram. "Power is being drawn from this unit into this section of the base, but we haven't been able to determine what's in there. As near as we can tell it's medical of some sort, but the only people who get in there are the big boss and his chief lackey."

The Major presses his lips, he doesn't like unknowns, especially in a location like this. "Medical, so cutting power to this area could terminate life support for some unknown person, is this what you are telling me?"

"We can't say, Sir. We haven't seen anyone go in there for medical treatment since we identified it."

The Professor nods his head thoughtfully. He doesn't like the idea that some innocent person may pay the price for this decision but a lot more people will suffer if this thing takes off and spaces everyone below. "Okay, take Rodriguez, lay the charges and get back here." He turns to the Corporal manning the comms. "Wilson, report."

She looks up at him. "White Fox are in place, Sir. I"m expecting to hear from Cobra any minute."

He takes a deep breath and feels the twitch in his muscles as his adrenaline levels rise and his heart rate increases. His body is preparing for engagement and it won't have to wait long. He tries to calm himself, he needs the hormone for the fight, but too much at the wrong time is counter productive. He closes his eyes for a minute. Right now all he has to do is to wait and to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Trip_**

He dreams he is drowning. It's not how the dream started. It started as one of his normal dreams, him and T'Pol, doing something, he can't remember what, it doesn't even matter. Suddenly everything changes. It's pitch black and he is submerged in warm viscous fluid and he's dying. He is in the dark, surrounded by the liquid and it's in his lungs and he can't breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _T'Pol_**

She wakes up with a scream. She doesn't remember screaming but she knows she did. She can feel the echo in her ears. She begins to shake. Something has been torn away from her. She recognises the feeling from when her father died. She can't understand it, she drops her barriers, all her bonds are intact. This makes no sense, it feels as if a part of her katra is being bled away. She knows it is mental anguish, but it feels like physical pain.

"What's wrong with her?" A voice, she doesn't know who.

Her shaking gets worse. Someone answers but she can't focus on the words. She feels the gentle pressure of fingers against the psi points on her face. She feels the calm of another, familiar, more stable, presence in her mind. It's then that she realises that she needs to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Malcolm_**

He meets the Captain at the turbo lift on D deck.

"Do you have the orders, Sir?" He asks as they walk towards engineering with Chang and McKenzie, armed and following along behind them. Archer hands him a PADD, in response, Malcolm hands him a phase pistol. "Just in case, Captain."

Malcolm looks at the PADD and reviews the orders, he knows he a stickler, but that's part of what makes him good. "Masaro and Rhodes are in Engineering, Skippy's got them working together on the warp injector matrix so it'll be easier for us. Baird's in the mess, Burrows and Austin are picking him up."

Archer looks at him with raised eyebrows. "Skippy: again, Malcolm?"

Malcolm gives the Captain his tight smile. "Apparently he doesn't mind. He had a long conversation with Hoshi about it and she explained that the psychology of nicknames is complex but they are often used to signify belonging. He decided it was logical to allow his human crew mates call him by a nickname if it helped him assimilate into the crew."

The Captain shakes his head. "He's a very different animal to T'Pol."

"I not so sure about that either Captain. Apparently T'Pol compiled very extensive notes on human psychology and suggested small changes that Vulcans could make to their behaviour that would improve Vulcan/human interpersonal interactions. Skippy is taking that advice on board, because it's logical."

Archer shakes his head. "Maybe there's hope for human/Vulcan relations yet."

"Even more so when we get rid of the likes of these three." Malcolm stops at the hatch to engineering, opens it and stands aside to let the Captain through first. "After you, Captain."

Archer pauses as he steps through the hatch. "Are you ready to go get them, Malcolm."

"Captain, I've been ready for the past month." He replies.

Truthfully, he's been on tender hooks since Hoshi first came to him with evidence of the data breach. He hates that he was ordered to keep these three on board, in their positions, with nothing but surveillance. Considering what the three of them managed to achieve in just over a year, he's felt like he needs to monitor every movement each of them has made. If one of them so much as scratched their bum in bed, he knew about it. It hasn't been the most restful month for him, he's been so dedicated to making sure the trio don't attempt anything else, his sleep and eating has been compromised. He's been watching them so closely some days, he's almost forgotten to breathe.

 **XXX**

 _ **Major Le Clerc**_

He and his team are following Park and Stanic through the narrow corridors of the base. He can hear distant shouting and the whine of phase weapons indicating that engagement has begun for other teams in the mission. Through his ear-piece he can already hear some teams calling in their objective as secure.

The group halts as a unit when Stanic throws up his arm, instantly flattening themselves against bulkheads. Before Stanic can move to the door a booming sound reverberates through the halls and the complex shakes and rocks causing the collected soldiers to grab whatever they can to stop from falling.

The Professeur feels a moment of fear, that any minute the atmosphere will be sucked out of this structure and he will feel the cold hand of vacuum squeezing his lungs. The creaking and shuddering of the base settles but the atmosphere is not compromised. He can hear panicked voices over the comms as various teams report in. He listens in, ticking off each group from a mental list. There's a lull and still no word from White Fox.

Finally, he hears the deep, round tones of Okeke reporting in. The explosion was of an unknown source in sector Three dash four seven. The hull has been breached but the bulkheads of the breached section were sealed at the time so the cause of the explosion and casualties are unknown. Park passes a PADD over Le Clerc's shoulder, with the schematic of the base open, and points out the relevant location. He looks up at Park with raised eyebrows. Park nods in confirmation. It is the mystery medical bay the recon team had been unable to penetrate. The explosion must have been triggered by someone on the base, perhaps in response to their presence. The Professeur has a feeling that whatever they find in that section it's going to be relevant to why they are here.

His team have recovered from the disorientation of the explosions and resumed their previous positions. He watches as Stanic opens a panel next to the door they are in front of, lays a charge and steps clear of the blast. The team moves through the door and clears the room with the efficiency born of hours training together.

He looks around the bridge of the moon base. There had been three people stationed there when his team breached the entry. The two who had been armed, were taken out by his team. The third, standing before him in a dark three piece suit and red tie, he recognises from the mission briefing. The man starts to move and six weapons are trained on him immediately.

"Monsieur Paxton," Le Clerc tells him. "I suggest the only move you make, is to breathe."

 **XXX**

 ** _Trip_**

He wakes from the dream gasping and shaking, tangled in his sheets, with a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. He lies in bed for a moment contemplating the vividness of the nightmare and trying to shake off the hollow feeling of fear and loss that persists after waking. He realises it will be impossible to sleep again so he gets out of bed and reaches for his running gear.

It is starting to get light by the time he returns home. Despite the physical activity he still hasn't lost the strange feeling of grief brought on by the dream. He prowls restlessly around his condo, grabbing food he doesn't want to eat, looking at the clothes in his wardrobe but not wanting to get dressed for work, going on to balcony and looking down at the pool and listening to gentle lap of the water and the sucking sound of the filter.

Eventually he realises that he can't face work today so he calls the office and leaves a message with his PA about a headache, or something similarly generic, that will prevent him from making it into the office. He feels a twinge of guilt, he's never been one to skive off, but he just doesn't think he can face people today. Then he puts on some swim shorts and heads down to the pool. He has a moment of panic as he steps into the water, and the fear from the dream returns. He pushes it away, plunges into the water, which is already warm for late June, and swims lengths for an hour, the rhythmic moving and breathing having a calming, almost meditative effect on him.

When he gets back home, he turns on the news while getting some breakfast and watches the reports of arrests been made all over the world and on the moon, of people with affiliations to an anti-alien group called Terra-Prime. He doesn't even really notice the report about the moon raid and the arrest of John Frederick Paxton. He has no way of knowing it's significance to him anyway. More importantly to him, a cog has just fallen into place, he has recognised a high level EU minister and Admiral Jackson as among those arrested. This is what was behind getting rid of T'Pol.

He drifts around his apartment for the rest of the day, never quite sure what to do with himself. He can't seem to shake off the melancholy of the dream. He tries watching some of his favourite movies but every one seems tied to a memory of Lizzy or T'Pol and he doesn't want the reminder, he feels exhausted by grieving for them. In the end he fills the time channel surfing and internet surfing and wishing he had something to repair.

Eventually the day ends and he lies in bed and stares into the blackness above his head and tries to ignore the fear. The pitch black reminds him too much of the horror of the dream. After a while he can't take the darkness anymore and he pulls back the expensive blackout curtains and lets the lights from the city flood into the room. He realises he's afraid to sleep again, just like he was after Lizzy. He's afraid of the dream, of loss, of dying, of the feeling of not being able to breathe.

 ** _Major Le Clerc_**

"Professeur, Sargent Park thinks you should come and see this, Sir." He nods to the Corporal who's been sent to summon him and indicates with a tip of his head that she should lead on.

As they walk through the corridors she informs him that the engineering team have sealed the hull breaches in sector 3-47 and they have discovered something of interest.

The first person he sees when he walks into the room is Sargent Park scrolling through menus on a monitor. He stands to attention and salutes when Le Clerc enters.

"Monsieur Park, what have you found for me."

"This whole section was rigged to blow, Sir, triggered from the bridge. There was only one charge tied into main power, that's the one that blew. The rest were on the auxiliary power supply we took out. If all the charges had detonated this sector and everything in it would have been space dust"

Le Clerc gives a nod in acknowledgement "So, Sargent, what were they doing here that they did not want us to find."

Park give the Professeur an odd look. "That's the other thing I need to show you, Sir." He leads the Professeur to a door and palms it open to reveal a small darkened room, and indicates the only object occupying the space, illuminated by the open door.

" _Merde_ ," Le Clerc mutters under his breath. "Is it alive?"

"No, Sir." Park presses his lips together not liking the news he has to deliver. "The life support for the tank was being powered by the auxiliary generator we took out."

" _Putain_!" He walks up to the tank, the fluid inside seems to almost glow in the soft light that filters in from the rest of the room. He notices that it is a female. She looks fully formed, perfect, with her delicate features and pointed ears. He wonders if she was developed enough to survive outside the tank.

" _Putain_." He says again as he turns away from the tank and it's tragic occupant. "What was that _fils de pute_ , Paxton doing, breeding a Vulcan child up here?" His rage is obvious to all who see it and they know why. He gave the order that killed her.

"Sir," Park feels the need to alleviate the guilt of his superior. "If we hadn't cut the power they would have blown this entire section to kingdom come. We wouldn't have even known she existed."

Le Clerk nods at the Sargent, acknowledging the truth of his words. But still he doesn't like to think of the suffering he may have caused this innocent child. He tries not to think of her as he walks away, never having known the comfort of her mother, not even in the womb, dying alone in her tank, unable to breathe.

 **XXX**


	16. Chapter 15

_**Soval**_

He stands in front of the seething fields of lava that millennia of Vulcans have looked upon before him and tries to ignore the slight headache behind his eyes. He has been too long on Earth and now finds it requires some time for his biology to adjust to the thinner atmosphere of the planet he was born to. He turns to the man next to him, impassively staring out over the vista. It is unusual for humans not to have an emotional response to the sight of the Fire Plains, he wonders what is troubling Admiral Forrest.

"Do you have an ulterior motive for your suggestion that we visit the Fire Plains, Admiral?"

Forrest turns and looks at him with a twist to his mouth. "Ambassador, I know relations between our two species have been... troubled, but I would like you to know I consider you a friend.

Soval raises an eyebrow in response to this and considers his reply. "Vulcan's do not form friendships in manner that humans do Admiral, but I also consider you a valued colleague."

Forrest does not break his gaze on the scenery but nods his head in response to Soval words. "What I am about to reveal to you is considered sensitive intelligence and it has been disseminated, even within Starfleet, on a need-to-know basis only." As he says it he hands a PADD to Soval. "As part of my mission here, I was tasked with briefing T'Pol on this information, which is specifically relevant to her. However, given the... personal nature of the material I believe it may be more appropriate for her to hear this from another Vulcan. Someone who is more attuned to Vulcan culture and any implications there within."

Intrigued, Soval opens the PADD and begins to review the data contained within. Forrest finally turns from the vista and regards the Vulcan dispassionately while he reads. After a few minutes the Ambassador's eyes widen and he looks up at the human with a raised eyebrow.

Forrest gives a wry smile in return. "As you can see, it is somewhat explosive in nature."

"I assume Mr Tucker had also been informed of this?" Soval asks as reads on further.

Forrest turns back to the Fire Plains. "Yes, we have sent some people from Starfleet Intelligence to brief him."

Soval nods. "You are correct in your reasoning, Admiral, that this information is better delivered by another Vulcan. Am I correct in my deduction that you do not want the High Command to be made aware of this material."

"I hope that's not a problem for you Soval, Earth/Vulcan relations have suffered enough without this hanging between us as well."

Soval considers the request. He can see no logical reason to inform the High Command. As their motivations have been too obscure over resent years, he realises he cannot predict what they would do with such information. He is also not entirely certain that, if they did act in response to it, it would be in the best interest of Vulcan or T'Pol. "I consider this a personal matter to T'Pol and Mr Tucker. The High Command would obtain no benefit from being privy to this information."

"Thank you, Soval. I really appreciate your help, and your discretion."

"You should return to the Embassy, Admiral. I will take some time to review the contents of this report and make an appointment to present it to T'Pol this afternoon. We can meet again tomorrow for the joint talks"

Forrest takes a breath. "There is also a letter for T'Pol, a formal apology from Starfleet, and an offer of a commission if she still wants it."

Soval turns off the PADD and conceals it in the sleeves of his robes. "I believe the gesture will be appreciated by T'Pol, however her personal circumstances have changed since returning to Vulcan, it is unlikely she will accept the offer."

"I guess that's not unexpected. I'll see you tomorrow, Soval" Admiral Forrest turns to leave the lookout but stops suddenly and turns back to Soval. "Live long and prosper, Ambassador."

"Peace and long life, Admiral." Soval replies with a nod.

He takes out the PADD again and opens up the picture of the doomed infant. It is hard to believe something so innocent could have been considered a threat. He wonders what potential lay in the combined genes of her extraordinary parents. What she could have been capable of if she had had the chance to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _T'Pol_**

She greets the Ambassador at the door, managing to maintain her Vulcan equanimity while doing so. She was surprised by the request from Soval to see her and was immediately suffused with irrepressible hope and crushing anxiety. She is convinced he has news of Trip and does not know whether his decision to impart the news in person signals a negative or positive outcome for her. She has meditated since receiving his call, hoping to prepare herself for whatever emotion his news will provoke in her. Nonetheless, she is completely caught of guard by what he reveals.

She sits in her mother's common room staring at the photo of the child and not even trying to contain the emotions that are coursing through her. She notes the pointed ears and greenish tint to the child's skin but it is impossible to know the colour of her hair or eyes. She finds herself hoping, irrationally, that she is blonde with blue eyes. She knows logically that it does not matter what this dead child looks like but cannot stop herself looking for signs of the father in the daughter.

She can hear her mother explaining to Soval the incident a month before, the confusion of the severed bond with no apparent lost child. She can even identify Soval's surprise that a bond had formed with a child conceived in such unusual circumstances.

She is still unable to grasp at just what she is feeling about this child she has lost before she even knew it existed. She thumbs through the information on the PADD as if it will reveal something to her of what she should feel right now. The letter catches her eye. She briefly entertains the idea of accepting the commission, returning to Earth, looking for Trip herself. She knows it is not possible, not right now. She pushes back on the fear. She can do it without him, she has to.

Then the analysis of the genome catches her attention, blue eyes, like her father. She is not even aware of the tear that has rolled down her face and splashed on the screen of the PADD until her mother and Soval fall silent. She looks up at them, expecting to see the disgust her emotions would usually engender in other Vulcans. She sees only sympathy, even the most disciplined Vulcan would grieve for a lost child.

"I believe you should meditate, child." Soval tells her quietly. "This is a profound loss, I grieve with thee."

She nods, trance like, and departs the room. It does not even register that she has not farewelled the Ambassador. She lights her candle and settles into the meditation cushion, but ignores the flame, looking instead at the image of the child. She wonders if Trip knows. At the thought she is overcome with a terrible emptiness, they should grieve this loss together. She opens her mind and feels him at the edge of her consciousness. She slips into her meditative space hoping to draw him in as well. She needs him now, like she needs to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Trip_**

He looks at the photo on the PADD and looks up at the two Starfleet officers standing in his living room and has a strange feeling, like the ground is dropping away underneath him.

"How long has Starfleet known about this?"

The taller of the two officers starts to talk "The theft of the genetic material took place before the Enterprise departed for the expanse last year but was discovered in May this year, the existence of the hybrid wa..."

"Baby, she was a baby." Trip snaps at them. He can feel a stinging behind his eyes at thought of it; his child, his daughter, his and T'Pol's.

"The existence of the child was discovered last month during the raid on the Terra Prime cell on the Orpheus Mining Facility, on the moon." The officer continues in a slightly softer tone.

"What happened to her, how did she die?"

Both the officers shift uncomfortably. "She was not full term at the time of the raid, but was being gestated in an artificial womb. During the raid, power was inadvertently cut to her life support systems."

"So she would have survived if the moon raid hadn't happened?"

"She would have probably made it to term, but the exobiologists who examined her genome found deliberate errors had been introduced during the cloning process. They believe it is unlikely she would have survived more than six months."

Trip rubs a hand over his eyes and sits down on the sofa. It feels like the pain just never stops coming. Lizzy, T'Pol, even Lorian and now this, this baby, that was somehow his and T'Pol's. It doesn't make sense. "Why us, why me and T'Pol."

"We are uncertain what their motivation was for creating the hyb... the infant. Genetic material of all the senior human officers from Enterprise was taken along with Sub-Commander T'Pol's. For some reason your genome was the only one they were successfully able to combine with Sub-Commander T'Pol's."

He wonders if that is significant, if he and T'Pol are somehow more compatible that other humans and Vulcans. He pushes the thought away as soon as he has it. He can't afford to get caught up in pointless deliberations like that.

He doesn't know what to do now. Does he grieve for this child that was somehow his and T'Pol's that neither of them had any say in creating or does he just push it aside. For a moment he wishes he would go back to this morning when he didn't know about her. Then he realises what a pointless thought that is. He still believed he had lost everything worth having this morning, he just didn't know exactly what everything was.

He looks up at the two Starfleet officers, who obviously drew some kind of cosmic short straw resulting in them to be ones who had to come and tell him this. "Is there anything else I need to know about this?" He asks. He needs them gone so he can curl up and have a good cry about the cruel universe that keeps on taunting him with the possibility of children with T'Pol, then snatching them away.

The two officers glance at each other and take a breath. God, what else do they have to tell him.

Finally the older man loses some kind of battle of wills over who will be the messenger. "Mr Tucker, we are obligated to remind you that you are still bound by the confidentiality clauses in your contract from you tenure with Starfleet. Knowledge of this child has been disseminated on a need-to-know basis. Your being read into this file was initiated on the basis of your genetic link with the... infant. As a former officer of Starfleet you are prohibited from discussing this matter with any unauthorised person as per Starfleet Regulation 86.7."

Trip stared up at them with his mouth hanging open. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. You're telling me I can't talk about my own daughter with anyone I please."

Both me look suitable contrite. "I'm sorry Mr Tucker, I realise this must be difficult to hear. Sub-Commander T'Pol is also being briefed. You are permitted to discuss it with her."

Rage finally gets the better of him. "Well wouldn't that be just dandy. I can call her up on Vulcan, can't I. Imagine how that would go? 'Well hey there T'Pol, did you hear about our baby that Starfleet killed. By the way, how's your new husband?' Wouldn't that be a nice chat between two ex-colleagues?"

The two men twist their mouths and look down. Trip feels a stab of guilt. It's not their fault and it isn't fair to shoot the messenger. But they are here, representing Starfleet, and he just can't help but feel Starfleet has betrayed him all over again.

"Once again, I am very sorry." The two men glance at each other again. "We'll see ourselves out, Mr Tucker."

He doesn't even hear the door close.

He looks down at the photo of the child again, he traces the tip of one of her delicate pointed ears with his finger. He hits a command on the PADD and sends the photo through to his printer, collects the print from the machine and goes into his bedroom. He picks up Lizzy's Vokau, that T'Pol had made for him, the only personal item of his in the room, in the whole house, and flips it over. The note from T'Pol is still attached to back. He folds the photo of his daughter and tucks it behind the note to join a photo of him and Lorian, that Hess took in Engineering and a press photo of him with T'Pol, taken after they just got back from the expanses.

He collapses more than sits down on the bed and puts the Vokau back on the bedside table. He realises that one day he will die and someone will come across this little shrine to his lost Vulcan family, that he never really had. He wonders what they will make of it. He does not even consider the possibility that this hypothetical person will be a child or grandchild of his own. He is not really able to imagine a way back to T'Pol and has subconsciously dismissed the possibility of having a family without her.

He lays back on the bed, fully clothed, but lacking the motivation to change into his sleep gear. He's pretty sure he won't sleep anyway. When he finds himself in the white space he realises he doesn't even remember closing his eyes.

He sees her immediately, sitting in her meditation position. He takes a moment just to absorb the feeling of completeness that comes from being near her again, the feeling that the cloud like dreams always imparted. She looks different, her hair is longer, but her face is softer somehow And she has tears streaming down her face. The feeling of the space is grief, he is enveloped in a fog of loss. He feels his own tears spill over and run down his face. She looks up and sees him.

In one smooth movement she is on her feet and in his arms, her face pressed against his neck. He can feel her tears mingling with his own and collecting in the hollow above his clavicle. They don't say anything, there is nothing that can be said. How do you verbalise the pain of losing something you didn't even know you had. So he pulls her closer and kisses the top of her hair and doesn't consider, even for a minute, that this not real and that she is not really here.

There is no time in this place. They hold each other for a moment and a lifetime, and grieve silently together for all they have lost. And, when it's over and he returns to his cold, empty life, for some reason, even though he knows it was just a dream, it feels a little bit easier to breathe.

 **XXX**


	17. Chapter 16

_I got my Surak quotes from_ The Teachings of Surak _by Greg Hoover. Which I found on Trekfanfiction_

* * *

 ** _T'Les_**

She had delayed leaving too long and was already at risk. Koss had argued the logic of her leaving. T'Pol was reasonably well again and he would be with her to ensure no harm came to her. But he was not able to extend the protection of his family to T'Les. Even T'Pol had insisted she should go and assured her that she would be well. So T'Les had acquiesced, and had been preparing for the journey when he contacted her.

Now she is delayed again at the behest of Soval. It is logical to cede to his request, her family owe him a debt of honour and he is acting for all of Vulcan, but the danger for her is growing. She practices some low level breathing and suppresses her nervousness. As she does, a strange shimmering appears in the air before her and she watches, fascinated, as it coalesces into the form of a man. It is intriguing technology, she must ask T'Pol for more details about it when she returns home.

She studies the man, he looks to be close to her age but she knows humans are considerably shorter lived than Vulcans so it is entirely possible he is younger than her daughter.

"T'Les? I'm Captain Jonathan Archer. Soval said you would guide me through the forge."

She has heard of humans propensity to state the obvious. She wonders if T'Pol will have any insight on this as well.

"Follow me Captain, I have been exposed to the possibility of detection by lingering here. I trust Soval has adequately prepared you for the conditions you will find in the Forge."

The Captain shakes his head, seemingly amused by her brusque Vulcan manner. "From What I've been told I'm not sure it's possible for a human to be prepared for conditions in the Forge."

She nods at the accuracy of that statement as she leads him forward. She hopes Soval and her daughter were correct about this human. That he can be trusted, that he can be reasonable. She is risking much.

The human persists to the best of his biology, but T'Les can see he is struggling in the conditions. She can not afford to alter her pace for him any more than she already has. Eventually they are forced onto the cliffside by a sehlat. The cries of the Sehlat keep them awake and, in the human way, he feels compelled to make small talk.

"How's T'Pol doing?" He asks with a certain nonchalance that even to her seems contrived.

For a moment she considers full disclosure. That T'Pol is not really well. That T'Les is not certain how long she can continue under her current circumstances. That they need to find Mr Tucker, for T'Pol's wellbeing and probably his. That T'Pol came close to madness in the aftermath of the hybrid clone's death and it was a month before they knew why. That he and Mr Tucker, and humans in general, have nearly destroyed her daughter and it is a daily struggle for her to suppress the emotions that come from seeing T'Pol so close to broken. But she knows this is not logical. It is no single individual or species' fault. No one could have predicted the strange collection of chance and poor decisions that led to her daughter's trouble.

"She is as well as can be expected." Is all she says.

The look he gives her is unconvinced. Captain Archer has been around Vulcans long enough to know when they are equivocating and he has never been one to accept their evasiveness. "Is she working?"

"Koss assisted to her to obtain some employment at the Vulcan Science Directory. It is a low ranking position, but, given her reputation, she is fortunate to have it."

Archer does not ask any more questions and T'Les does not enquire why, it is not the Vulcan way to probe others for explanations of their inner lives.

They remain silent until Syrran arrives and chases off the sehlat. For reasons of his own, Syrran conceals his true identity from the human and T'Les trusts in his logic, but does not get the opportunity to obtain an explanation from him as to why. By morning Syrran is dead and the human Captain is carrying the katra of Surak.

After that T'Les finds herself having to mediate a constant battle between Surak's agenda and Archer's biology. She can see Archer physically struggling to both contain the Vulcan's mind and endure the Vulcan environment. Suddenly he looks at her with eyes that do not seem to be his own.

" _You must cast out fear_ , T'Les." Surak tells her in Archer's voice. "Humans are far more tenacious than you give them credit for. It is quite a fascinating experience to be part of such a different kind of emotional discipline."

T'Pau is very little help, too focused on Surak's ability to lead them to the Kir'Shara to concern herself with his vessel. " _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one_." T'Pau tells her.

"That does not mean the one is not entitled to its needs." T'Les responds.

She turns to find Archer regarding her. "Be patient with her, T'Les." He tells her. "She is still young. The path always seems clearer before you walk it." He takes the flask from her to drink.

When it is all over, he sits exhausted and dirty on the floor of the High Command, while her people's civic institutions are destroyed and reborn around them, and looks at her with an exhausted grimace.

"Under the circumstances, it's my understanding, T'Pol could not be expected to be very well at all." He tells her.

"She is not." T'Les acknowledges.

"Trip's probably not doing very well either if I'm reading this situation correctly."

"We have no way of knowing. This situation is unique. There is no established baseline to measure from." She looks away and tries to centre herself. "It is a struggle to accept some of the choices my daughter has made and the consequences of those choices."

" _The foundation of Vulcan Logic is the acceptance of people, things, and situations as they really are_." Archer tells her.

"Their children would be a source of shame, an abomination." She responds.

"What makes an abomination, but what people perceive in it. _Logic and reason are impartial; they treat all humanoids as equals_."

It is a surreal experience to have the teachings of Surak, quoted to her by a human, but she feels a certain amount of peace come over her at his words. Her daughter's mate is logical because he is her mate and their children will find acceptance in her home by virtue of their existence. Whatever comes of it, T'Les decides, T'Pol will not find her mother's logic failing her.

A priest has been summoned and arrives with two stretcher bearing aids. "We must get him to Mt Seleya urgently." The Priest tells her as they lifts the human onto the stretcher.

"Well T'Les, it's certainly been interesting." He tells her.

"Indeed Captain, I believe you have changed the course of Vulcan history."

"I think we did it together, T'Les." He give her a faint smile. " _I am pleased to see that we have differences. May we together become greater than the sum of both of us_."

She nods at the words, conscious they apply to more situations than just this one. As the stretcher bearers carry him away she holds her hand up to him in the Ta'al. "Live long and prosper, Captain Archer."

"Peace and long life, T'Les." He responds, as he returns the gesture.

She turns to the room and observes the restrained chaos that is a Vulcan revolution in progress. She realises that after months, even years of searching she has found what she was seeking for herself and her daughter. It is such a relief to feel like she can finally breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Archer_**

If someone had told him three years ago that he would cross the most inhospitable desert on Vulcan guided by the mother of his former First Officer and the spirit of the Vulcan father of logic, he probably would have laughed in their face and told them to give up drinking. Now here he is playing host to a dead Vulcan and being mothered by a live one, and, aside from the fact it feels like his brain is trying to crawl out of his eye socket, it's a fascinating experience.

He certainly understands Vulcans a lot better than he did a week ago, that goes without saying. But he can also feel the bright gaze of Surak on his own mind, his own memories. It is an enlightening occurrence to have the perspective of another person, interpreting your life's experiences, especially when that person is not human.

It is also pretty interesting to see Surak's disappointment with Vulcans, apparently they have lost the true path and become bogged down in dogma. Archer finds it a refreshing change to encounter a Vulcan who doesn't automatically believe Vulcans haven't put a foot wrong in 2000 years. It's just a pity said Vulcan is dead, and in his head.

Then he's leading Mother T'Les and the most supercilious Vulcan he has ever encountered, which is quite an achievement all by itself given the Vulcan dedication to arrogance, through a series of tunnels and caves to find Surak's diary, or something similar. And, despite the fact that he feels absolutely compelled to do this, he really would rather be back on Enterprise, lying on his bed, with a cold cloth over his eyes, Porthos at his feet, and some kind of pain killer coursing through his veins.

All this, while very interesting, and annoying, and painful, is not what catches his attention the most. It is when they realise they need to get to the High Command and fast, and that will require transporter codes and T'Les calmly suggests they contact Koss, that Surak's attention is drawn first to Archer's memories of T'Pol and then, by association, to those of Trip. It is here in the recollections of three years observing the tension and arguments, baiting and eventual friendship, and romance apparently, between his two colleagues, that Surak reveals something about Vulcan mating, specifically as it relates to his former First and a Second Officers.

Later he sits in his dinning room with Soval as they perform an autopsy of the events of the past week. At the end of the evening, because he is, mostly, still himself, he offers Soval a drink, even though he knows the Vulcan will refuse it. Despite everything, he just can't help baiting the bear, old habits die hard.

He raises his glass "Here's to Vulcan and Earth, a new era."

Soval says nothing but nods his head in acknowledgement.

Archer gives him a sly look and finally asks the question that's been eating at his mind since the revelation came to him from Surak. "So, what are we going to do about Trip and T'Pol?"

Soval raises an eyebrow in return. "I assume you are are working on some thread of knowledge that has come to you via your recent interaction with the katra of Surak."

Archer cants his head and looks over his glass at The Vulcan. "You know if you had just approached me and told me straight out what the two of them were up against, I probably could have found Trip in a matter of days."

Soval doesn't even blink at the revelation. "Some matters are extremely private to Vulcans and are not discussed with outsiders."

"Well, Surak didn't have too much compunction enlightening me about the situation between the two of them or the implications of leaving things unresolved. I can't help but think that sometimes you Vulcans get a kick out of making things more difficult for yourselves. Occasionally you just need to get out of your own way."

"It is a delicate situation, T'Pol's reputation amongst her own people was already compromised. If the events surrounding her treatment by Starfleet proved anything, it was that information held by your organisation was not secure."

Archer shakes his head. He's knows enough of the whole Terra Prime situation to realise that Soval's assessment is partly true. But he still can't help questioning the Vulcan's logic. Damn it, he's even sounding like a Vulcan in his own head. "I wouldn't have considered this a Starfleet matter. I would have considered it a personal matter between Trip and T'Pol and acted accordingly, as their friend."

Soval nods his head once as if acknowledging the truth in the Captain's words. "There has never been a recorded case of a bond between a human and a Vulcan. If I had known it was possible I would have insisted T'Pol be rotated from her position on Enterprise after the first year."

Archer snorts, "I'm not sure that would have made a difference. I was there when they first met, and so far as Surak could tell, any point after that, would have been too late."

He can see the surprise on Soval's face at the implications of what he's just revealed. "And What was Surak's impression of that circumstance?"

"His exact thoughts were ' _I am pleased to see that we have differences. May we together become greater than the sum of both of us_.'"

Soval blinks slowly "I see. I believe I shall have that drink after all, Captain."

Archer gives him a smile "That's the spirit Soval." Archer pours some dark golden liquid into a glass. Now this, is 18 year old, single malt scotch whisky." He hands the glass across to Soval who immediately raises the glass to his lips, pausing when the Captain holds up his hand suddenly. "Don't gulp it all down, leave it in your glass for a little bit, let it breathe."

 **XXX**


	18. Chapter 17

**_T'Lara_**

She looks around at the gathered guests and questions, not for the first time, the logic of these gatherings. She has attended many since her posting to Earth began and so far as she has observed few humans seem to genuinely enjoy them and few Vulcans seem to utilise the opportunity to interact with their host species. She nods a greeting to her Vulcan colleagues who are gathered at the edge of the room, passively observing the gathered humans, who talk loudly about a multitude of topics, very few which seem to be related to the reason for gathering here, and drink too many alcoholic beverages (the supply of which she suspects is the primary motivation for the attendance of most humans here) and studiously ignore the silent Vulcans.

Much has changed on Vulcan in the past month and word has come down from the new government, via the Vulcan Science Academy, that staff seconded to Earth can begin quietly pursuing opportunities for collaboration with both public and private organisations. In light of this information she makes the logical decision to attempt to engage some of the human guests at this function and enquire about their research interests. She meets with little success, many of the people gathered here are not scientists or engineers, but sales people. Their technical knowledge is somewhat limited and any probing questions into the specifications of their organisations' developments are crudely deflected.

She has lived on Earth for two years now but has had very little true contact with humans. She has attended meetings where they have been present, usually government officials, academics, or Starfleet personal, and has frequented these functions organised by trade councils, but, like the other Vulcans present, has rarely engaged any of the gathered humans beyond greetings and farewells. Tonight, she comes to the conclusion that she is woefully ignorant of the social customs of humans and finds their meandering topics of conversation illogical and their frequent use of idiom confounding. She had hoped her slightly unusual Vulcan nature would be an asset to amongst these more emotional people, but it seems that while other Vulcans may find her particularly emotional, humans do not.

She has always struggled with her emotional discipline, more than the average Vulcan. As a child her school reports would be filled with comments along the lines of 'T'Lara has a lively mind' or 'T'Lara approaches her studies with enthusiasm'. These were not compliments. Fortunately, her parents, who are slightly eccentric academics themselves, were extremely Vulcan about their daughter's unconventional nature as they did not seem to have any feelings about it whatsoever. They would simply advise her to be diligent in her meditation and, if she must have an enthusiastic, lively mind, then it was only logical to direct these attributes in the pursuit of excellence. It is also provident that, in addition to her emotional character, she is also extremely intelligent, so while her sometimes evident emotions may raise eyebrows amongst her superiors and peers, her academic achievements and logical reasoning are beyond reproach and, as such, she has been able to advance in her chosen career without difficulties.

She decides to attempt one more social interaction with one or more of the humans present, and if that proves unsuccessful it is logical to accept defeat this evening and apply herself to developing skills in conversing with humans before attempting anything similar again. She reasons that a change in tactics may be useful and rather than attempt to enter an established conversation she should try to engage an individual who is not already involved in a social interaction. She spies a likely candidate at the bar and reasons obtaining a drink for herself would be an excellent justification to take herself near enough to begin a conversation.

She approaches the bar with the intention of requesting a water, but at the last minute is overcome with some, not unprecedented, daring and decides to order something more exotic. She requests the drinks menu and turns it to the back where the non-alcoholic options are listed, dismisses the soft-drinks as disgusting coloured sugar water, and the dairy based drinks for obvious reasons and looks at the juices. She realises, once again, she has kept herself woefully ignorant about human culture as she has no idea what most of these fruits are. She turns to the man next to her, who she had been intending to engage in conversation anyway, and asks him what he would recommend she try.

When he turns to respond to her, she is quite surprised by his blue eyes. Blue eyes are almost unheard of on Vulcan, and she finds them almost disconcerting. He smiles at her in the typical way of a human engaging someone in conversation and asks what she likes. She admits quite frankly that she has only tried apples, oranges and bananas, of all the Earth fruits but was looking for a new experience.

He laughs, takes the menu from her hands and looks over the list. "Why don't you try pineapple juice. That's sufficiently different from apples and oranges to satisfy your quest for novelty."

She thanks him for his suggestion and while she makes the order she realises that this is the most successful conversation she has had with a human all evening and considers how she could capitalise on this excellent beginning. In the end she decides introducing herself is probably logical and turns to him again.

"I am T'Lara," she tells him with a bow.

He smiles at her, "Hello," then his eyes widen slightly and and all he says is "a ladybird."

T'Lara, quite taken aback at his apparent knowledge of Vulcan responds in her native language. "Ni'droi'ik nar-tor. Ri vesht fai-tor nash-veh stariben du Vuhlkansu."

He looks very confused for a minute "I'm sorry, I don't speak Vulcan." He tells her.

"Then how did you know my name means Lady Bird?" She asks him with a raised eyebrow.

She watches perplexed, when he begins to laugh. "I didn't." He tells her shaking his head in mirth. "You have a ladybird on your shoulder." He indicates her her left shoulder with his hand while he continues laughing.

"She looks to her shoulder and finds a small red dome shaped object with black spots, only to realise on closer inspection that it is an insect. "I see. I trust it is not dangerous?"

He laughs again. "No, they are harmless, it's considered good luck if one lands on you."

"The concept of luck is illogical, good or otherwise." She tells him.

He seems to find this amusing as well "If you say so, Ladybird. Are you going to try your drink?"

She picks up the tall glass of yellow liquid and looks quizzically at fruit pieces, speared on stick, that have been placed in the glass with the drink. "What is the purpose of the pieces of fruit speared on the stick?

He laughs again. He seems to find much of what she says amusing. "You know, I have no idea. It's called a garnish. I suspect the purpose is just to make the drink look good."

"Am I expected to consume them?"

"It's your choice. Most people don't seem to eat them."

"That seems an illogical waste of food."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

She considers the garnish for a moment before reasoning that there is nothing to suggest she should not eat it and bites a piece of the fruit off the stick, chewing thoughtfully. The human watches with amused fascination. She looks at the next piece of fruit on the stick. "This fruit is suspiciously bright red, is its colouration natural?"

"That's a maraschino cherry. It's a preserved cherry, I'm pretty sure the colour is not natural."

She decides not to eat the unlikely coloured cherry as she is uncertain what it has been preserved in or coloured with. She places the stick and it's remaining fruit on the napkin on the bar and takes a sip of the drink. Somehow the juice is both extraordinarily sweet and extremely astringent at the same time. She swallows and notices a residual tingling in her lips and tongue. The human continues to observe her with a slight twitch to his lips.

"I believe this fruit may be incompatible with my biology, I appear to be experiencing a slight pain reaction where it has contacted my skin." She tells him.

"That's quite normal. There's a chemical in pineapple that breaks down protein. Everyone has that reaction."

"I see. Intriguing." She puts the drink down not sure if she wishes to try more.

"So, what brings an adventurous Vulcan Ladybird, like yourself, out to an event like this."

She is aware that he is mocking her slightly but it is not aggressive so she ignores it. "I am a Materials Scientist, seconded to Earth by the Vulcan Science Academy. Heretofore, my role was primarily observational, but with the recent regime change on Vulcan there has been a move towards finding projects on Earth that may be suitable for collaboration."

She notices his attitude change. "A Materials Scientist, hmm, at an aerospace industry convention. What's your area of expertise?"

"Primarily, advanced composite materials for use in warp core construction. We are producing some light weight, low density, low volume materials with heat and radiation shielding properties."

"That's very interesting indeed, Ladybird. I think you may be good luck after all. I think I should introduce myself." He hands her a card as he gives his name and company.

She recognises both immediately. At first she is unsure why he would be interested in her research. His company is renown as a leader in the production of personal shuttles, the materials her department have been developing are far too advanced for the simple machines his organisation builds. But after talking extensively about his current project she realises she may have stumbled onto exactly the kind of undertaking she has been seeking.

By the end of the evening she is brimming with enthusiasm for this newly forming idea. She uses the time in the shuttle flight back to the Consulate to to compose a proposal for submission to her superiors. She knows that once she is back in her quarters she will need to meditate then review the draft again to ensure that her unVulcan-like eagerness has not been communicated in her work. This a habit she has cultivated since childhood, when her parents identified her nature and directed her not to fight it, but utilise it to her advantage.

She completes the draft in her quarters, lights her candle and settles onto the cushion. She can feel the excitement of what is potentially a new challenge and finds it slightly more difficult to reach her meditative space. She thinks about the blue eyed human and realises that by the end of the evening she no longer found his eyes so strange. She pushes the unwelcome thoughts out of her mind. For now she needs to be calm and breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Soval_**

He sits at his desk and works through the tasks and messages that have built up while he was on Vulcan. He has of course been reviewing messages while on his home planet, but the ones he is dealing with today are those that were low priority or could not be delegated or dealt with in absentia. He also scans the new messages and identifies one from Captain Archer. Despite the claims by the Captain that he could rapidly obtain this information, the commitments by the Enterprise over the preceding month meant private communication was subject to the delays of the public subspace bands, which are significantly slower than the official methods. He reads the the message from the human, notes the information provided and sets it aside. While there is a certain urgency to following up on that matter, his formal duties must take precedence.

Logically, Vulcans have a finely developed system for indicating the priority level of their communications which allows him to read and and action the most important undertakings first. He spends the day at his desk reading, processing and filing while he works through the list. Working his way, diligently and systematically, towards the personal task that awaits him at the end of this process. He does not experience anticipation or apprehension about addressing the personal responsibility he has accepted, or impatience with the procedure he must complete before attending to it. He has applied simple logic to determine the order that these tasks have been assigned and it now stands only for him to complete the work.

The day draws on and his task is interrupted only by meals and occasional hushed conversations pertaining to his work and, by the time he reaches the lowest priority tasks the wall of fog that lurks on the coast has started to roll back into the bay through the Golden Gate. It is at this point that he reaches the message with the proposal from T'Lara. He reads her outline for a technology exchange with a human private venture and the assessment of the proposal by her immediate superior, all with total ignorance of name of the company in question. This is done deliberately to keep the reader focused on the individual merits of the project details without being swayed by the reputation of the company or individuals connected to it. It is perhaps a tacit acknowledgement that even Vulcans can be influenced by privately held stereotypes that frequently go unrecognised, although they would never admit to such.

He is intrigued by her proposal, and that a private company would be spearheading a project of this type. He is not surprised that T'Lara is the first to take advantage of the the relaxed rules around alliances with human organisations, there has always been a certain eagerness about her nature that wasn't entirely Vulcan in its expression. This assessment of the the author aside, the project is full off merit and the benefits for Vulcan of having access to the final outcome are undoubted. He responds to the message that contained the proposal, giving his authorisation for the collaboration to be developed and suggests a meeting the following day to discuss the process and details for the partnership. He then progresses to the final page so, in preparation, he can task his personal assistant with researching the background of the company in question.

His eyebrow raises with barely suppressed surprise at his recognition of the company name. He reopens the message from Captain Archer just to be sure the information provided by the human does indeed match that provided by T'Lara. He is aware that humans would be illogically compelled to conclude that the coincidence is more than just statistical chance and likely to attribute this outcome to the unseen hand of god or fate. But he is Vulcan and such flights of fancy do not fit into his worldview. After all, given the nature of the project that the former Starfleet Commander is working on, it was almost inevitable that it would come to Vulcan attention at some point. It is merely convenient that, in addition a potential stake in a project that could benefit Vulcan, it also provides Soval with the possibility of resolving a personal issue for his former protege.

It is at this point he realises his day's work is complete and he closes down his computer and tidies away the residue of his industry. He rises from his desk, crosses the office to the sideboard and takes out the bottle gifted to him by Captain Archer before they parted ways on Vulcan. He pours a small measure of the golden liquid into a glass and looks out the window to a sky lit equally golden by the setting sun. He does not even attempt to suppress the satisfaction of a day's work well done, of a lifetime's work successful. He is even satisfied that the situation facing T'Pol may be reaching its conclusion at this point in time, after the discovery of the Terra Prime infiltration on Earth and the exposure of the High Command treachery on Vulcan. The path for her and the Commander can only be easier with those two issues resolved. He takes a sip of the whisky, savouring the complex flavours and has to agree with Captain Archer, it does seem that some things, some circumstances are improved, not by action, but by simply letting them breathe.

 **XXX**


	19. Chapter 18

**_Trip_**

He goes on a date. He has no interest in dating anyone but he talked himself into it. He doesn't want to spend the rest of his life grieving for a child he never knew and pining for a woman who lives on another planet, a woman who is married to someone else.

He meets his date in the emergency room of the local hospital. One of his staff managed to burn himself rather badly with a plasma torch, she is one of the doctors who treats him.

He senses her interest immediately, he has to tamp down on a slight feeling of nausea at the realisation. He almost blurts out to her that he belongs to someone else. He doesn't belong to anyone and no one belongs to him. He has to keep reminding himself of that.

He goes home to his perfectly nice apartment, that still looks no different from the day he moved in, and sits on the perfectly nice sofa, that he doesn't really like but he can't be bothered replacing, and looks at the piece of paper with her name and phone number written on it and wonders why it's so damn hard to feel like a normal person.

He thinks about T'Pol. She went about it logically. Recognised that, rightly or wrongly, her bridges had been burned on Earth and just got on with it. Went back to Vulcan, got married, probably got a job, probably even got pregnant. No matter how real the dreams sometimes feel, they are are just that, dreams.

So he calls the Doctor. He can hear the pleasure in her voice. She would love to have dinner with him.

"Is Friday night okay?" She asks.

How is he supposed to answer that, any night is the same as the other.

She asks if they can go early, somewhere casual as she begins a late shift a 11:00pm.

He feels relief at this. Somehow it will be easier to get through it if he has an end time to work towards. There is a voice, in the back of his head, telling him that if that's his attitude he shouldn't be doing this. He ignores it, he's just trying to be normal, surely that's a good thing.

He meets her at the restaurant. He can't deny she is attractive. She wears a tight, red dress with a black leather jacket and black ankle boots, it's edgy and somehow elegant and sexy at the same time. Her long blonde hair hangs in artful waves down her back. She wears makeup, not too much, not too little. No, he can't deny she is attractive. He feels nothing.

To someone watching from the outside it would seem to be a successful date. With the same dispassion he takes to everything these days, except his dreams, he plays the part of an amusing, intelligent, confident, attractive man on a date.

He can quite figure out how he does this. He feels like a body snatcher, it is as though he's put on a Trip suit and is pretending to be the person Trip used to be. It's the same at work. He's pretty sure his friends from a Enterprise would see through it immediately. He doesn't contact them, so they have no way of knowing. It's like he's two people at once. His real self, trapped in this body and this life, just trying to fill in time until something changes, but who nobody ever sees, and Fake Trip, who is like a copy of the person he used to be.

The only time he feels like his real self is in his dreams. Am I an engineer who dreams he's in love with a Vulcan, or in love with a Vulcan and dreaming I am engineer, he wonders.

The lovely doctor is amazing.

She speaks with passion and animation about her job. How she loves the intellectual challenges but also the human side.

She describes her hobbies. She loves many of the things he does, fishing, diving, sailing. Her hands move about expressively as she describes a sailing trip she took after her final year at medical school.

She volunteers when she can, at a free clinic. She is obviously outraged that there are still people who struggle to afford health care.

She expresses sorrow at the loss of his sister, her face a genuine picture of sympathy. She says all the right things. She didn't personally know anyone who died, she can't imagine how awful it must have been.

She laughs at his amusing stories from Enterprise and asks intelligent questions about space travel.

Yep, she's amazing. Beautiful, intelligent, passionate, articulate, expressive, amusing. She is probably the perfect woman for him. He can't stand her.

Every expression, every gesture, every laugh seems so excessive, so unnecessary. He knows he's being unreasonable, that she's a perfectly nice person, a perfectly nice human. It's not her fault he doesn't want a human. It's not her fault she's not T'Pol.

At the end of the evening he drops her off at the hospital. She turns to him with what he knows is an attractive smile.

"I had a really great time tonight." She tells him.

Fake Trip answers her somehow. He thinks it is an appropriate answer because she smiles. He doesn't tell her what he is really thinking, which is that he never wants to see her again.

She pauses for a minute, still smiling at him, giving him the opportunity to kiss her if he wants to. Thankfully it's a first date so it's no insult if he doesn't. She's fluent in the language of dating, she doesn't wait too long for the kiss that isn't coming, but opens the door of the car and starts to get out.

"Call me." She tells him, with a smile.

"Sure thing." He lies, with a smile. He doesn't watch her walk in, but drives off immediately.

He feels a twinge of sadness as he wonders if he'll ever be a whole person again. He can't understand why the emptiness T'Pol opened up in him just doesn't go away. He wants to like this nice, attractive, intelligent doctor, but he can't seem to make himself feel anything but disdain. He almost thinks he should call this perfectly agreeable woman just to assure her that there's nothing wrong with her, that he's the one that's broken. He's smart enough to know that would be worse than not calling her at all.

He goes home and dreams he's kissing T'Pol in the shower. It's a normal, run of-the-mill sex with T'Pol dream until she throws him violently against a wall. When he gets over the shock and looks up at her she has become like a raging zombie. Her skin is green and ulcerated, her teeth are black and rotting, and her eyes are wild. She growls and bares her teeth at him, then pounces and starts to strangle him.

He wakes up gasping. It's like he can still feel her fingers around his throat and he's struggling to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _T'Pol_**

When she gets home Koss is already there. Six months have passed since the wedding and she has come to know him as an honourable and kind man. A certain kind of friendship has grown between them. They pass a few comfortable moments as they talk about their respective days before she retires briefly to the bedroom to change out of her dusty clothes.

She looks at herself in the mirror. She looks so different from the shaking, ill creature of the wedding it is hard to believe she is the same person. She has gained weight, of course. Once the nausea passed and she was able to eat properly her appetite came back aggressively. She looks a little softer now, the extra weight shows in her face. She has grown her hair a bit longer, it was a sly protest against the High Command. It is not logical, but she needs these subtle expressions of her feelings in order to stay sane. She wonders for a moment what Trip would think and pushes the thought aside aggressively.

For her own peace of mind she cannot afford to indulge in thoughts of him which can often have the unfortunate side effect of dragging him into her consciousness. It is bad enough that he invaded her white space on a regular basis in her first few months back on Vulcan. As a result she would emerge from her meditation more agitated and emotional than when she entered it.

Eventually she learned to read his state of mind and discovered if she entered meditation during his deep sleep phase he would appear in the white space but would remain asleep. She still finds it strangely soothing to have him with her in her meditation space even though he is generally not conscious. Occasionally he stirs and speaks to her but with none of the bitter recriminations of their earlier conversations. Instead she treasures these tender moments when he usually confesses his love for her or tells her that he misses her. Even more comforting is when she is dragged into his dreams.

It doesn't always happen. Her sleep patterns on Vulcan do not always mesh with his exactly but when they do the dreams are vivid and engaging. It is in these moments that they are most like their old selves, working on a problem together, performing neuro-pressure or occasionally making love. He occasionally dreams of a baby with blue eyes and pointed ears, the pain of this dream is real for them both. It is after these dreams that she misses him the most and almost books a transport to Earth to try and locate him. It takes all her discipline to remind herself that this option is not practical for a multitude of reasons, that he has cut his ties, to Enterprise, to Starfleet and to her. She must live the life she has, not the one she dreams about.

She sighs and returns to the kitchen to assist Koss in preparation of the evening meal. Things would have been much more difficult for her without his assistance. He has been a stabilising presence in her life particularly in the aftermath of the death of the child. His ability to maintain his Vulcan control has helped her navigate the tumultuous emotions generated by the child's death and the subsequent information about her existence. Additionally it was his intervention that got T'Les back her job and he also assisted T'Pol by helping her acquire a position with the Vulcan Science Academy as a tutor's assistant.

It is a low level position, she is more qualified than her superior and often finds errors in his work which she corrects without drawing attention to them. After the Kir'Shara was rediscovered and the High Command dissolved, her status on Vulcan improved and she was offered a better position with more responsibility, she declined. She has lost her much of the drive of her previous career, currently life is difficult enough for her without adding the complication of ambition. She feels like she is waiting. Perhaps she has been infected with that most illogical of human emotions, hope; and despite everything she still believes she will find her way back to Trip and he will want her.

"You are quiet tonight. I trust everything is satisfactory?" Koss' concern interrupts her quiet reverie.

"I'm fine." She replies. He accepts her answer at face value. Trip would have sought clarification, he would not let her get away with that kind of evasion.

She is still uncertain as to whether she made the correct choice regarding the marriage. Knowing Koss better, she can see he has all the attributes that make for a good husband. She knows she should be able to live with him. But still, even six month's later, the thought of spending her entire life with anyone but Trip leaves her struggling to breathe.

XXX


	20. Chapter 19

_**Trip**_

He sees the Vulcan standing there when he walks into his office and, for a moment, his breath catches in his throat. He knows it's not her, but it seems that his heart hasn't completely let go of hope, so he can't put a halt to the dream that perhaps T'Pol has come to find him.

She doesn't really even look like T'Pol except in the broad way that all Vulcans look similar. The pointed ears, the slanted brow, the olive completion, but she is much shorter with darker hair and her face is more pointed, without the full mouth. He's pretty sure he stands there like a goon for longer than would be polite in any culture. But she takes it with the equanimity that Vulcans approach, or at least attempt to approach, all situations. Eventually the slightly clipped tones of his boss, that belie his English origins, break through Trip's trance.

"Trip, this is T'Lara. She's going to be working with us on the engine. Her speciality is advanced composite materials for warp applications. The Vulcan Science Academy has developed some leading edge stuff, Trip, I think it's going really put our project ahead of the curve. T'Lara, this is Charle Tucker III, but everyone calls him Trip."

He feels a surge of anger and distrust at the introduction. He's witnessed the kind of deals Vulcans do when trading away their technology and he can't help but be deeply suspicious of this development. What is strange is the obvious antipathy he observes in the Vulcan woman.

"Commander Charles Tucker III, of the Starship Enterprise." She asks with evident animosity. Evident to him anyway, Hugh McVeigh, his boss and the CEO of the company, seems oblivious to her hostility.

Trip folds his arms and leans against his desk and looks at her with narrowed eyes. "That's former Commander Charles Tucker. I resigned from Starfleet almost six months ago."

"Trip, is everything okay?" Hugh asks, looking between his head of R D and the feisty little Vulcan he met at the trade conference a week ago.

"I just have a reason to be suspicious when Vulcans come bearing gifts, Hugh." He notices that T'Lara says nothing.

"There are no gifts, Trip. We're negotiating a joint venture. Their materials, our design. It means they get some of the glory, that goes without saying. But it also means we might get to produce something truly leading edge" It's obvious from Hugh's face that this introduction is not going as well as he expected.

Trip rubs his had behind his neck and twists his mouth. He watches the news feeds and knows that the High Command has been toppled from power and a new government put in place. It's not ridiculous to conclude that these new leaders are less about playing the disapproving parent and more about partnership. He looks at the bristling little Vulcan and his perplexed CEO and suddenly he can't work out why he even cares. It's all just stuff to him and he has nothing personal left for the Vulcans to take from him anyway.

"Trip," Hugh looks at him intently. "Is this going to be a problem for you?"

"No, it won't." Trip tells him with absolute sincerity. "When I got out of Starfleet, I got out of interstellar politics. I'm just here to build the best engine I can and if that means working with Vulcans, so be it."

Hugh gives him a friendly slap on the arm. "I'm glad to hear that Trip, because we're planning to send you to Vulcan."

Somehow, Trip's not sure how, he manages to get through the next fifteen minutes of conversation while T'Lara and Hugh don't so much talk to him, as at him. Hugh is brimming with enthusiasm, despite being a entrepreneur he is also an engineer by training, nothing in the same league as Trip and he knows it, but enough that the thought of getting his hands on innovative new materials makes him a bit giddy. T'Lara's a bit of a mystery to Trip. She also seems enthusiastic about the project, which is pretty unVukcan as far as it goes.

He glances at T'Lara and wonders about his ability to read her emotions when Hugh seems blatantly ignorant of them. It occurs to him that three years of interacting with T'Pol on a daily basis probably just trained him in the micro expressions that Vulcans display, he knows better than most people, the lie that is they don't have emotions. He ponders the source of her earlier hostility, he even wonders if perhaps she knows T'Pol and holds him responsible for what happened to her. But occasionally he catches her glancing her at him in a way that, while not as blatantly hostile as her original demeanour, now seems to have taken on an air something like confusion. It's almost as if, even when she's looking straight at him, she can't really see him. He finds it strange that in the six months since he lost T'Pol, the first person to determine that he has been left somewhat incomplete, is a Vulcan.

He just trying to process the information that he's going to Vulcan. He can't figure out if he feels relief or terror at the prospect. There's a part of him, a big part, that's throwing a parade, because he's going to be closer to her, and there's a chance, even if it's slim, that he may see her, accidentally of course, and even if it's awkward as hell and all they do is talk about the weather, he'll be near her and perhaps he won't feel so broken. There's another part of him, a small sensible part, that's raining all over that parade. Because there is a not so little voice in his head that wants to find her, that is desperate to find her, even if it's just to look at her, and if he's close enough that all he has to do is drive to wherever she is, he won't be able to stop himself from doing that and he's pretty certain that would take him over the line from plain old fashioned obsessed and firmly into the realms of stalker.

Somehow while all this is going on in his head, he's listening to Hugh and T'Lara as they plan his life for the next six months, most of which will be on Vulcan. He doesn't know how he does it but he manages to take it all in, while at the same time completely ignoring it, until they are finally ready to wrap it all up and Hugh looks at T'Lara with a smile and says something that causes Trip to shake his head in disbelief.

"Okay, I think we're all in agreement here. Is this going to be acceptable to your people, Ladybird?"

And while she gives her ascent, Trip looks between the two of them with with a 'what-the-hell' look on his face, because his boss just used a nickname for the Vulcan and she didn't turn a hair.

"Did you just call her 'Ladybird'?" He asks Hugh, not even trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Hugh just laughs in response. But T'Lara presses her lips together before she responds and Trip knows she's embarrassed. "Lady Bird is the rough English translation of my name. The T suffix before a Vulcan female's name translates as Lady and the Lara is a blue bird found in the desert on Vulcan." She tells him.

"Okay," Trip answers, wondering if he's stepped into another dimension. "Do you mind that he's calling you by a nickname?"

"Technically, it is not a nickname. It is a translation of my name." She tells him calmly, and if he wasn't trying to be on his best manners after their rocky start he would called her on her bullshit.

"I'm pretty sure sure Hugh's not fluent in Vulcan so how did he start calling you by the English translation of your name?"

"When we met, I had a Ladybird on my shoulder, when he pointed it out I assumed he had translated my name. There was some confusion, which from a human perspective was amusing."

He tries to muster a smile but just feels awkward, he can't help but remember that once upon time he would have only seen the humour and laughed himself. In fact once he probably would have teased her and asked why she had a bird on her shoulder and how Hugh knew it was a lady, and then killed himself laughing when she explained what a Ladybird was. So he says it anyway and laughs at her predicable response and Hugh is laughing as well and he can tell even she is amused and truthfully, he just feels numb to the whole thing.

Suddenly he he feels deep mourning for his former self, who could laugh and joke and felt a certain lightness of spirit, an optimism, a positive belief that somehow the universe was on his side and conspiring with him to provide moments of happiness and fulfilment and love. He knows it is irrational but it feels like fate has turned on him. First taking away the thing he love most, then offering him something new to love and taking it away before it was truly his, and finally giving him something and taking it away before he even knew it existed to be loved.

He looks up at this Vulcan Ladybird, whom he has a sneaking suspicion can see into his shattered soul. He wonders what her story is and if he should warn her to stay away from Hugh, who is obviously attracted to her, which, in the long run, is probably not going to be good for either of them. He doesn't even know how to begin a conversation like that with a Vulcan so he just smiles at her and they look at Hugh who is laughing so hard he is struggling to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _T'Lara_**

If there was ever a moment that she wished she could be as emotionless as a normal Vulcan, it was when she was introduced to former Commander, now Mister, Charles Tucker. She wished she'd thought to ask for the full name of the engineer, Hugh McVeigh spoke so positively about, before she met him. Then she could have prepared herself in advance for the meeting and her moment of rage would not have been on display for all to see. Not, she had recently realised, that 'all' generally could see it where humans were concerned. Vulcan expressions were not obvious and were fleeting and humans frequently missed their appearance. So it was extremely unfortunate that Mr Tucker was one of the humans who seemed to identify her every emotion as it flickered across her face.

She was aware that Charles Tucker III had spent three years on a starship with a Vulcan crew member and obviously that exposure had given him enough experience with Vulcan emotions to render her something of an open book to him, which was disconcerting as she would very much like to have kept her initial reaction to him as a private thought. Because, for most of the time, T'Lara was able to use her emotions. They pushed her to achieve, they motivated her, they cautioned her, but her anger over the fate of the Seleya, that was irrational and served her no good purpose at all. It didn't seem to matter how many of the facts she was furnished with, it didn't matter how much she meditated or rationalised, she could not dispel the anger over what she had lost and she couldn't stop herself from blaming the Enterprise, most specifically the Captain, but that did not spare the rest of the crew from her rage.

She is, by dint of her position, in possession of far more of the facts surrounding the final mission of the Seleya than most of the surviving family members. She has read the report from the ship's doctor, which chronicles the damage suffered by the crew members that were still alive at the time Enterprise discovered the ship and concludes they were too badly damaged by toxic exposure to recover. She knows that the human boarding party, which included the Vulcan crew member who was quickly affected by the toxin, had been forced to fight for their lives to get off the ship. She understands that the Enterprise was on an essential mission in the Delphic Expanse, that the fate of their entire species was on the line. She is able see there was no way they would have been able to do much help the crew of the Seleya, even if they hadn't triggered the explosion, after all, they could have hardly taken 147 homicidal, terminally ill Vulcans on board or even wait around for them to die. She even understands that, in a way, killing them was a kind of mercy, as opposed to the alternative, which was to leave them, grievously ill, maddened with toxic rage, slowly dying on a disabled ship in hostile space. But all these facts, all this reason does nothing to dispel her anger and her grief.

Perhaps if she was a different type of Vulcan, a more traditional type of Vulcan it wouldn't have mattered quite so much. But her emotional nature makes her less attractive as a mate and that was the simple fact of the matter. As a child, her parents approached her betrothal with same detached logic that they approached most of their lives. It was logical to find their daughter a mate who was attracted to her nature, not repelled by it. So their search for their daughter's future husband had largely ignored the usual logical shopping list of traits sought in a future mate. family connections, wealth, intelligence, status, tribe, alliances and what not; while all these things were certainly used to find a pool of candidates, many superior specimens were passed over in the final selection. The result had been Seltor.

Seltor had been selected on the basis of his apparent attraction to T'Lara. Not that there was a sexual component to that attraction, they were seven at the time after all. But he seemed to want to be around T'Lara. He seemed fascinated by her emotions. At seven, children were only just starting to learn the discipline that would shape their entire mental life but Seltor, despite his own quiet, passive nature, seemed to enjoy the fact there was a rebellious streak in T'Lara. He had been the obvious choice, and his parents were pleased because T'Lara's family had a good reputation and the connection was far better than they had hoped for their youngest son.

Thousands of years of tradition had determined that allowing the betrothed too much time together as children seemed to alter bond to be more like that of siblings, so T'Lara did not see Seltor again until she was roughly the equivalent of a human teenager. After that her parents subtly encouraged contact between the two, hoping for an affectionate connection on the part of Seltor, that would prevent him from forming a distaste for the less conventional aspects of her nature. Their reasoning was sound and Seltor and T'Lara developed a warm relationship, that humans would classify as a friendship and both looked forward to their eventual marriage, probably more than the average Vulcan couple.

T'Lara was under no illusions, theirs would not have been passionate union. No doubt the bond between them would have quite sound and she had looked toward to her life with Seltor with satisfaction, ultimately she was still Vulcan and that would have been enough for her. Of course all that ended with the Seleya. He was an engineer and it had been an agreeable development when he secured the commission as it was one of the most advanced ships in the fleet and space experience was almost de rigueur for advancement in certain science and technology careers on Vulcan. They had planned together that she would complete her secondment to Earth and he his tour of duty on the Seleya and then they would fulfil their marriage contract and complete the bond.

But now the Seleya is gone and Seltor is gone with it and, along with them, the future she had envisioned for herself since their true friendship began as young adults. While she does genuinely grieve for her lost fiancé, she has no illusions that some of her grief is for herself. Because she is an adult, with a personality trait that is not just less desired amongst Vulcans, but undesirable. Because unbetrothed adults are not so common on Vulcan, so it is unlikely that she will secure as compatible a mate as Seltor, if she is able to secure one at all. This means the life, and the mate, and the children, and the simpatico that she had imagined with him are unlikely to eventuate for her at any point.

So when she is introduced to the former Engineer from the Starship Enterprise, the first crew member, past or present, that she has met, she is not able to quell the flash of anger that streaks through her soul and passes across her features, even though it's not his fault, but because that illogical part of her that won't let her anger go wants it to be, because it's easier to feel angry at a real person than to curse fates you have been taught not to believe in.

Mr Tucker displays a certain amount of anger towards her as well. He suggests that Vulcan's are untrustworthy, particularly in the area of technology exchange. Before she can defend the reputation of her race, Hugh McVeigh steps in and explains the agreement and then she sees a strange alteration in Tucker, almost as if holding on to his anger is too exhausting for him. She finds herself surreptitiously observing him while she and Mr McVeigh discuss details for the alliance. He seems to be listening, he answers when directly spoken to, but there is something about him that she can't quite understand, as if there is some absence in him that she can't seem to rationalise in a human, but she has the strangest sensation that if he was Vulcan she would know what it meant.

It is when he expresses surprise at Mr McVeigh's calling her Ladybird that she has a revelation about herself. She has detected Hugh McVeigh's attraction to her and she has done nothing to dissuade him. She realises that she has been quietly considering the possibility of forming a romantic relationship with the human entrepreneur. She knows she does not want to spend her life alone and has reasoned that a human would be more accepting of her nature than a Vulcan. Then after Mr Tucker jokes with her about why she had a bird on her shoulder, although she is somewhat amused, she catches a strange look on Charles Tucker's face as he looks at her, as if he wants to tell her something but doesn't know how to broach the topic.

She looks at Hugh McVeigh, laughing uproariously at the joke and compares him to Charles Tucker, whose emotions seem somewhat muted, as if he is numb to his life. It is then she realises that there is a vast chasm between a slightly more emotional Vulcan and even a slightly less emotional Human. But more importantly she knows that Hugh is completely oblivious to anything she feels, that she is little more than a blank slate to him and while it would be alright at first, in the long run both she and Hugh would suffocate in the empty space between their two nature's and a relationship could not survive where it could not breathe.

XXX


	21. Chapter 20

**_Trip_**

Trip thinks about the weeks that have passed since he met T'Lara. Her people have some amazing compounds and he's come to realise the coup it was for Hugh to get his hands on them, provided they perform as well as the Vulcan's say they will. He doesn't really doubt they will, Vulcans are way too cautious to risk their reputations on things they haven't tested extensively. In fact if Trip's experience, on the Warp 5 project, with proscribed Vulcan testing regimes is anything to go by, he considers it entirely possible that it was T'Lara's great grandfather that developed this stuff and they are only just ready to put it to use now.

He's gone back to his design and, using the new compounds, has been able to take 50% off the thickness of the outer hull, which is enough to get the engine down to their target size. But then, still inspired by what he has to work with, he's takes out an old matter/anti matter injector design he'd been tinkering with during his MIT years, reimagines them with some of these new materials and the variable compression nozzles and comes up with an injector design small enough that he'll be able to fit two sets of them in the GDFM. When he shows Hugh and T'Lara, Hugh is naturally delighted with the developments. T'Lara looks them over with the skeptical eye she applies to all his work.

"I don't recognise these injector designs, where did you get them?" She asks. The subtle insult that he is not talented enough to design them himself is not lost on him.

"They're mine, I came up with original designs fifteen years ago when I was at MIT. I just tweaked them a bit, incorporated the new material and some new technologies that weren't available to me then." He answers blandly. He's got enough experience not to let himself get drawn into a Vulcan web of aspersion.

"It was my understanding you did not complete your High School education. How is it that you attended the Massachusetts Institute of Technology?" T'Lara's not letting up today.

Trip shakes his head. He can't believe that people still buy into that shtick, dreamed up by Starfleet PR for the Enterprise launch, that he was a dropout that learned his trade fixing boat engines and he tells T'Lara as much.

Hugh, completely oblivious to the mild interstellar war going on between the Vulcan and the human, is too busy counting dollar signs. He can barely contain his excitement, after ensuring Trip owns the patent for the original injectors, which he does.

Trip considers T'Lara, she's a strange one. He's never gotten to the bottom of her apparent instant dislike of him. In fact he's surprised at how often she shows emotion. He thinks back to when he first met T'Pol, how frequently they would go at each other over various issues. He knows now what an unusual Vulcan that made T'Pol, how emotional. T'Lara seems equally as emotional but usually less easily provoked, she seems to have incorporated her emotional nature into her Vulcan identity more seamlessly than T'Pol ever did, as if she's more accepting of herself.

The only thing T'Lara doesn't seem to accept is how she feels about Trip. There's the hostility, which is more likely at the end of the day, there have times over the past few weeks where Trip has just wanted to throw up his hands and tell her to go meditate and when she's done come back and talk to him like a normal person. There's confused T'Lara, the one that looks at him as if he reminds her of someone but she can't figure out who. Then there's the scientist, the academic, when that T'Lara comes out to play, Trip is reminded of the times he and T'Pol used to work together on problems. He doesn't have quite the same symmetry of minds with her that he had with T'Pol but he wonders if there is something about his thinking that meshes with Vulcans somehow.

He can't quite figure it out how he does it, but he just seems to get them, he can read their expressions, understand their subtleties, figure out their intentions and expectations. It's not just T'Lara he's noticed it with. Since coming to San Francisco prior to his departure for Vulcan, he's spent time with several Vulcans, including Soval, and sometimes it's almost like he's got a secret Vulcan in his head, whispering their secrets to him. He can even see that most of them feel more comfortable with him than the other humans on the team. He puts it down to all those years living and working with T'Pol, obviously something rubbed off on him. Even Soval seems interested in spending more time with him.

In fact, Soval has been bordering on friendly with him. Sharing meals with him, talking about recent events on Vulcan and Earth and what it means for Vulcan/human relations. They even somehow get onto the topic of Trip and T'Pol's daughter and Trip is pretty sure Soval seems angry when Trip tells him that he has not discussed it with anyone because he is bound the confidential classification. Soval quietly refers him to a lawyer who specialises in human rights law.

She listens to the story with evident horror and takes him on as a client straight away. Two days later she contacts Trip and tells him he needs to apply for a birth certificate for his daughter so she can proceed with her action, which means he has to name her. He spends an evening looking at baby names and keeps getting drawn to the name Amy. He feels uncomfortable naming her without T'Pol's input and discusses it with Soval. He realises what a relief it is to have someone to talk to about his daughter, how lonely it had been to have the knowledge and the grief and yet, be unable to ease that burden by sharing it.

"Is there a reason you were drawn to this name, Amy?" Soval asks him.

"Uh, yeah," Trip feels a little embarrassed at his sentimentality in the face of a Vulcan's impassiveness. "It's because it means 'beloved'."

"I see, that seems an excellent reason." Soval looks at him intently. "and you are questioning this choice because...?"

"I have to..." he's not certain how to verbalise the reason for his hesitation "It's not something..." Trip presses his lips together and sighs. "Usually both parents would select a child's name together. I don't know what T'Pol would want, or if she would even want to do this."

"I assure you, Mr Tucker, T'Pol's thoughts, and feelings, on the matter of this child are very similar to your own." Soval looks at Trip thoughtfully. "Perhaps you could choose a Vulcan name with a similar meaning? In that way you would honour her Vulcan heritage in the her given name and her human heritage with her family name. "

Trip nods in agreement "You know, that does seem like a really good idea. I assume you know a Vulcan name with the same meaning?"

"The closest I can think of is, T'Shanik, it means 'Lady loved at first sight'."

He likes that, he likes it a lot. In fact, he has a strange certainty about the name but does not trust his instincts where T'Pol is concerned and says as much to Soval. Soval gives him an enigmatic look and assures him that T'Pol will be of the same mind.

A week later, the day before he departs for Vulcan, he is back in Soval's office staring at the birth certificate for T'Shanik Tucker, who died before she lived, before he knew she existed or even could exist. He has instructed the lawyer to have her remains sent to Vulcan once Starfleet releases them. He doesn't want her body to lie amongst these people, who in the end are his people, but are the ones who created her to die and the ones who sought to deny her very existence. He's not sure what will happen once her remains arrive on Vulcan and says as much to Soval. The Vulcan calmly agrees to handle all the details of the repatriation and the funeral rights once she gets there, which includes informing T'Pol. Trip has a strange feeling of tightness in his chest at thought of seeing T'Pol, for the first time in months, at their daughter's funeral.

Finally, Trip feels that he has done what small thing he can for his daughter that never was and thanks Soval for his assistance. Soval accepts his gratitude with grace and invites Trip to join him for lunch. As they walk along a colonnade they look down at a Vulcan wedding taking place in the courtyard below. Trip is struck by the familiarity of the scene, a feeling of deja vu that certainly hasn't have come from attending a Vulcan wedding in the past. Soval, seeing his attention has been caught by the spectacle, is strangely indulgent of his curiosity and speaks at some length about the rituals involved in a Vulcan wedding and then goes even further to explain the telepathic bond that forms between spouses. Trip takes it all in silently, while watching the the couple with their hands extended, first and second fingers touching. He has a sneaking suspicion that Soval isn't telling him all this accidentally. He wonders if he is being warned. If Soval is aware of his failed relationship with T'Pol and is trying to let him know that it could never have worked, because his human mind was incapable of forming this bond and her Vulcan mind would have always been seeking it.

He feeds this new information into the shield he is building around his heart. His latest attempt to numb himself to what he has lost. He has become an engineer of his emotions, focused on their containment and suppression. Because he's about to spend six months on Vulcan, and he's pretty sure if he wants to hold it together, he needs to keep away from her. It is with that carefully cultivated numbness that he prepares to travel to Vulcan.

There had been some debate about whether he should go on an Earth or Vulcan vessel. The latter being faster, the former more comfortable for a human. It had dragged on a bit and in the end he had put his foot down and told T'Lara that he would take the journey on one of Hugh's transports (that guy has his finger in a lot of pies) for no other reason than because, as an employee of one of Hugh's companies, it meant he could at least tinker in the engine room. He realises that he is looking forward to getting out to space again, to fine tuning an actual, working engine rather than just a hypothetical one. He's surprised at himself, it's been months since he's looked forward to anything.

So it is, almost seven months to the day since he last saw her, he finds himself back in space. He stares down at Earth through the viewing port in his quarters, watching it shrink to nothing as they speed away and feels nothing but relief to be gone. He is shocked by the strange new awareness that Earth has come mean betrayal to him. He wonders how he will feel when it is time to come back. But mostly, he feels relief because the further he gets from his home planet, the closer he gets to hers and every time he thinks about it, it feels a little bit easier to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Soval_**

He is surprised by the appearance of Charles Tucker when he sees him again after so many months. He realises he should not be, humans' physical well being is generally so much more tied to their emotional well being than Vulcans. He should have reasoned that, given the physical effect of an incomplete, un-nurtured bond on a Vulcan, that it would take its toll on a human as much physically, as well as emotionally. Emotionally, however, Tucker is difficult to read. There is a certain dullness that humans seem oddly oblivious to, but he notices Vulcans occasionally glancing at Tucker as if trying to fathom something they have detected in the human that is somehow amiss, but are unable to marry their innate knowledge of Vulcan bonds with a neglected one in a human.

He has long ago realised that humans have far more control over their emotions than Vulcans have ever given them credit for. Certainly their emotional life is far more finely tuned than Vulcans were ever capable of. The Vulcan emotional world is a blunt tool that is either almost fully suppressed or all encompassing. Humans, on the other hand, are capable experiencing a full gamut of emotions, all while their intellectual capabilities remain at full capacity. Even with this understanding, he is amazed at this human's ability to push his emotional turmoil aside and continue, at least outwardly, to function somewhat normally. Certainly his intellectual genius is not stunted, even the Vulcans who work with him are impressed by his innate ability to conceptualise and innovate in his chosen discipline.

He watches Tucker's Vulcan interactions with interest. His whole demeanour seems to change when he communicates with Vulcans. He reasons it could be years of experience from working with T'Pol, but Soval suspects it is more likely to be the effect of the bond. As if Mr Tucker is accessing shared knowledge of the bond and instinctively adjusts his behaviour to suit Vulcan sensibilities. He can make the switch between cultures almost instantaneously, even with T'Lara, who frequently demonstrates she has not completed the process of grieving her lost fiancé and is not above using the erstwhile engineer of the Enterprise as an outlet for her anger.

To his credit, Mr Tucker endures her aggression with surprising equanimity, if not a little confusion. Soval has to admit he is impressed with Tucker's command of his emotions. Prior V'Shar intelligence reports would have had the reader believe that Mr Tucker has little to no emotional discipline, yet the unprovoked verbal slapping he endures daily from T'Lara gives lie to that assessment. Soval sighs to himself and vows to speak to the young scientist. He hypothesised that she might find an outlet amongst the more emotional people of Earth, for her entirely understandable grief in response to the loss of her betrothed, but he has not detected an easing of the emotion. He knows he will be forced into the quite uncomfortable position of raising the topic with her to determine if they can, together, formulate some kind of solution for her, at least for the relief of Mr Tucker who is bearing up so stoically under the weight of her misplaced ire.

But before approaching T'Lara, he has some issues he must address with Mr Tucker. The first, which falls under the purview of his role as the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, is the status of the deceased hybrid child that was created from T'Pol and Charles Tucker's DNA. As the offspring of a Vulcan, the child is considered a Vulcan citizen, but there is a distinct effort by Starfleet to "brush the affair under the mat" to use the vernacular. This is a somewhat inadequate approach from the Vulcan perspective, as it does not address the telepathic connection Vulcan parents form with their children, which begins in utero, even for the ones spawned in tanks by insane bigots with the intention that they die tragically young.

Soval is appalled that Tucker has been prevented, by virtue of the classification that has been applied to all aspects of the case, from disclosing the existence of the child to anyone,. He is perplexed by the arbitrary way humans often treat their emotions as if they are a nothing more than an inconvenience rather than a biological necessity. He grieves on behalf of this human who has been abandoned to such appalling knowledge and left to suffer in silence. It is fortunate he has already discussed the issue with an a Embassy staff member who is an expert in Earth law and has a referral for a lawyer who can assist Mr Tucker with at least getting legal acknowledgement of the child.

The relief from Tucker at the opportunity to discuss the tragic infant is palpable. Soval is even surprised by hints of a bond with the child. The vivid dream of drowning that Tucker experienced when the child died could be coincidental but seems to correspond with some of T'Pol's experiences at the same time. It is intriguing this hybrid bond, if it wasn't considered such a private matter it would be fascinating to investigate its nature.

Which brings Soval to the second of his tasks. Tucker's apparent interest when he spies the wedding occurring in the Embassy courtyard gives Soval the perfect opportunity to enlighten Mr Tucker on the nature of Vulcan mating bonds. He and T'Les both agree that there is no way to know how Mr Tucker will respond when informed of the existence of the bond. As a member of a largely non-telepathic species they have entertained the notion that he may be repulsed by the idea of sharing a open psionic link with another individual. They decide together that the best way to introduce the concept is to enlighten Tucker about the nature of Vulcan matebonds prior to leaving Earth, which would give him several weeks to process the information so the existence of his own bond with T'Pol would not come as such a complete shock when he learns of it. Despite following his and T'Les' careful plans for the reintroduction of Trip and T'Pol he has few concerns about the human's feelings about T'Pol. During the process of making arrangements for the remains of their child, Tucker had been altogether too concerned about what her point of view may be for Soval to be left in any doubt about where Trip's feelings lay.

Now there was only to address the issue of T'Lara. He considers her lack of a potential mate may be a source of stress for her and she may benefit from an early return to Vulcan so she can resolve her personal affairs. Her secondment still has six months to run but, given her involvement with this project, it is entirely suitable for her to return to Vulcan early to continue in her capacity as the Vulcan liaison with human team. It will simply be viewed as a natural extension of her role here on Earth and no one will be tempted to consider that she has been censured, which is by no means the case. He sends her a message, requesting that she meet with him and ponders how it is that, as member of a species that has supposedly eschewed emotions, he seems to have been dealing with people's feelings on a strangely regular basis recently.

He takes a moment to bask in the satisfaction that comes from the resolution of several issues before moving on to the next set of tasks that require his attention. Much has changed, for the better, between Earth and Vulcan over the past seven months. He ponders how the members of both species will view the news of the inter-species relationship and hybrid child. He realises that he feels a certain optimism for the future, for their future, that was absent under the old Vulcan regime. As a Vulcan, it is illogical to hope, but it is a seductive feeling and rather than suppress it as he normally would, he takes a moment to just enjoy it. A small, private moment to just let the feeling wash over him, to take it all in and to breathe.

 **XXX**


	22. Chapter 21

**_Trip_**

He feels it as soon as he steps off the shuttle. It's a bit like someone has thrown a chunk of hot concrete at his chest. He feels like he is thirty kilograms heavier, struggling to breathe and all the fluid was instantaneously evaporated out of his body. He's also pretty sure his lips have already chapped. The desert, his old nemesis, nothing good has ever happened to him in the desert.

A Vulcan named Turock is supposed to meet him and escort him to his hotel. It occurs to him he's only been on the planet for five minutes and all he can think of is a cold shower and a cold bed in a hotel with in-room gravity controls. He is about to be disappointed on all counts.

A woman, who looks to be his mother's age but could be twice as old for all he knows, steps forward and says his name. He responds with a wheezed affirmative. It occurs to him that if he had taken the Vulcan transport, as T'Lara had suggested, he would have had weeks to acclimatise and wouldn't feel so shell shocked right now. He vows to tell her this, because he knows how much pleasure she gets from being right, even more so when it means he is wrong. He's quite generous that way.

He squints at the woman, who is standing, cool as a cucumber in front of him. He can already feel a headache developing behind his eyes as a result of the lower oxygen, the bright midday Vulcan sun doesn't help one iota. He wishes he'd thought to have his sunglasses handy. The woman holds up her hand in the Vulcan greeting and tells him her name. Which he promptly forgets. He muses that visiting Vulcan is somewhat like having the flu: he's struggling to concentrate, his chest feels tight, his limbs feel heavy, he feels too hot and he has a headache. It's definitely a factor to include in the tourist brochure, he thinks sourly

The woman looks at him with raised eyebrows and takes his bag off him without even asking, he doesn't protest, it felt like he'd packed rocks in it anyway. She leads him to a vehicle while telling him he will feel more comfortable if he gets out of the heat. He doesn't protest that either. The air conditioning in the car is set at least five degrees higher than he would choose but it's at least ten degrees cooler than outside, so he doesn't complain.

As she directs the vehicle out of the shuttle port, some of his wits return to him and he realises he has no idea who this woman is. For all he knows she may be a dangerous criminal who preys on unwary travellers when they arrive on Vulcan. Considering what he knows of Vulcans, it seems plausible he thinks wryly.

"Um, I thought I was going to be met by someone named Turock." He asks hesitantly.

"Mr Turock had commitments on T'khut this week and was unable to meet you. Your transport arrived a week early, so we had to make other arrangements" She tells him, with the typical Vulcan blandness that somehow always sounds like an accusation. The irony being that, this time, it is his fault, because he couldn't help himself and spent most of his waking hours in the engine room trying to squeeze everything out of the engine he could. The Captain loves him, he has a sneaking suspicion the Chief Engineer hates him, no one likes to be shown up. He managed to get the transport running an average of half a warp factor over the entire journey though, hence the earlier arrival. He doesn't say anything in response to her comment , he somehow knows it's not expected.

"Your early arrival has also complicated your accommodation arrangements somewhat." She informs him. "Hotel rooms are at a premium at the moment. The Earth Embassy is still under repair and there is an interplanetary conference in Shi'kahr this week. Your serviced apartment is not available until next week and we have not been able to secure you a room in the interim."

"Oh, where will I be staying then?"

"Under the circumstances, as you are a guest of the Vulcan Science Academy, I have agreed to host you in my private home."

He's not entirely sure how he feels about that development but his Southern manners don't let him down. "Thank you, it's very generous of you. I hope you're not going to be inconvenienced by having a human in your home?"

He swears he sees her lips twitch in amusement. "I shall endure, Mr Tucker. Your thanks are unnecessary, someone had to host you privately and I have an available guest room. It was logical that I make it available for your use. It would hardly be a credit to the Vulcan Science Academy if we let our our guests to sleep in the street due to a shortage of hotel accommodation."

It's a half hour drive from the international shuttle port to her house. During the drive he takes in the city that will be his home for the next six months. The sun is so bright everything seems washed to a dull reddish sandy colour. He recognises the style of architecture from the note his sister left him before she died. He feels a familiar tug of sadness when he realises she would have loved to come here and see it all in person.

The Vulcan woman's home is on the outskirts of Shi'Kahr and is built on a small plateau. He tries to hide his dismay when he realises there are what seems to be at least fifty stairs to climb to get to the front gate (possibly an exaggeration). He doesn't even protest when she picks up his bag and walks ahead of him. His mother would slaughter him if she caught him letting a woman tote his bags on Earth. Fortunately he's on Vulcan so that won't happen, the climb is probably going to kill him anyway.

He manages to reach the top of the stairs without disgracing himself, revises the number of stairs to closer to one hundred, and follows his host into the courtyard of her home. He's struck by the beauty of the setting which feels vauguely familiar, maybe it's the the similarity to ancient Japanese architecture.

His host leads him directly to his bedroom which is small and simply decorated. She tells him that she has to return to the Science Academy as she has classes to conduct that day but she will return in four point five hours. She suggests he may want to rest while she is gone, as the environment can be quite taxing for off-worlders and it will take a few days for him to adjust.

He doesn't need to be told twice and has stripped to his underwear before he even hears the front door close. He sets the climate control to its lowest setting, a positively chilly twenty-seven degrees Celsius, and lies down on the bed.

Truthfully, he feels eager to sleep. His dreams have become more vivid and realistic as he has gotten closer to Vulcan. All about her of course, with the exception of the living Enterprise dream, which he still has at least weekly, but most of the dreams have been in unique locations he doesn't recognise. Aside from the novel settings, the content of the dreams has been almost mundane, watching her eat, or work, or wait for an appointment. But it doesn't feel mundane. It feels like... life. As if they are doing these things together, because he can smell the food in the cafeteria she is eating in, and hear the soft murmured conversations of serving staff with patrons, or her fingers tapping the keyboard, or smell the disinfectant of the medical facility and occasionally, she has stopped what she's doing and seemed to look straight at him and in those moments he's been so tempted to reach out and touch her, but has always resisted just in case it shatters the illusion.

In some ways it feels like the dreams are more real than his life as there have been times, when he's been concentrating intently, that he's felt like she was there with him, as if he could see her in the corner of his eye but as soon as he turns to look directly at her she is gone. There is a part of him that truly wonders if he is going insane because he's basically hallucinating and his dreams feel more real than his real life. He worries a bit for himself since there is always the temptation to give in to the curious seduction of these dreams, to simply fall asleep forever and not wake up and stay with her forever in his mental space and he has the mystifying knowledge that it is an option. He's not sure what holds him back, that it would break his parents' hearts; that he's not ready to give up on life; that there are friends, good friends, who he hasn't spoken to for months, who would nonetheless grieve for him; and her, he knows, without any doubt, it would hurt her. Because, despite everything, whatever has happened, he would never do anything willingly that would cause her pain, he would die for her, or live for her, if that's what is required.

So he lies on the strange bed, in the strange house, on the strange planet and welcomes the strange sleep that enables him to be wherever she is, and watch her do whatever she is doing, and smell her soft perfume and hear her familiar voice and even, if he gets close enough, feel her breathe.

XXX

 ** _T'Pol_**

She has come to despise these stairs. She knows it is illogical to hate something inanimate, that serves a useful purpose, that only exists because it has been created to serve that purpose, but she hates them all the same. She knows there are twenty-eight, she has counted them incessantly, but as the months have passed, twenty-eight seems to have become a much bigger number than it was when she first returned to Vulcan.

She has foregone work today, her early appointment has left her drained and a strangely throbbing headache has come on suddenly making concentration near impossible. The specialist has been advising her give up work permanently for several weeks, the strain on her body is becoming more evident and it is illogical to continue something that contributes to her fatigue. She decides in that moment that she will hand in her notice the following day, it is the cursed stairs that are the deciding factor.

She steps into the house and feels a rush of emotion so complex she fails to categorise it. Because she can smell him, as if he has been in this room only moments before. She ignores it, since it is not the first time this has happened to her in the past few weeks. She has increasingly been having strange experiences, where she is certain he is present and the first thing she usually notices in these episodes is his sent wafting over her. The most recent incident was just yesterday as she was eating lunch, or trying to at any rate, when she had caught his scent and been overcome with the certainty that he was nearby, watching her, so much so that she had looked around for him, and she had even felt, just for a second, that she had looked right at him before the moment passed.

She has mentioned these incidents to Saros, and asked if it signifies anything with the bond. In a typically Vulcan manner he refuses to speculate. She is travelling through uncharted territory and Vulcans have spent too many millennia suppressing their imaginations to suddenly start trying to conjure up monsters at the edge of their knowledge to torture her with now. The medical specialist she consults with is not prepared to hypothesise either so she is left with the ticking worry in the background of her mind that this incomplete bond, along with everything else, is finally driving her insane.

She drops her bag and slips out of her shoes by the door, moving towards the kitchen and relishing the feel of the cool stone floor beneath her feet. Her mother would press her lips in disapproval, she was never able to cure her daughter of the habit of going bare foot in the house. She puts water on to boil for tea and takes out the ceramic cup that she prefers to drink from, stopping when she hears movement from the bowels of the house. Koss, she reasons with some resignation, he has been staying more and more at his apartment in the city so she hasn't seen him as much in recent weeks, she is grateful for the reprieve from his company. She feels some guilt for that. There is no denying that he is considerate or that he has all the attributes that make for a good mate and he has been more than generous towards her. But she feels bowed under the weight of his expectations and although she feels duty bound to honour the agreement she made to him, she can't help but anticipate being released from it, should the opportunity present itself.

She has her moments when she wonders if she should have taken the option offered to her by the specialists all those months ago, to forfeit his life, their lives, with a sundering, a termination. To make herself free so she could have bonded herself to Koss, and been a good Vulcan wife and fix at least some of the things that make her an object of suppressed disdain amongst her people. But Trip is not just a part of her mind, he is a part of her soul. While they may have been able disentangle the bonds of the mind, the bonds of the heart are much harder to unpick. Because she has learnt the flavour of love and it tastes of iron and salt, and smells of pecans and burnt sugar and its vowels are drawled and it's hands cool and calloused and now that she knows, she can't forget and doesn't even want to.

"T'Pol?"

She startles at the sound and drops the cup which shatters into a multitude of ceramic shards all around her. She had been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn't even heard him approaching. She stands there, in her bare feet, stranded amongst the slivers of porcelain and stares at him open mouthed, not even sure if she's remembering to breathe.

 **XXX**


	23. Chapter 22

**_Trip_**

He wakes abruptly, confounded by the disorientation that often results from sleep outside of normal rhythms. For a moment, he panics and thinks he's late for his duty shift, then he remembers he doesn't work on Enterprise anymore, then he can't remember where he is or what time of day it is or even if he was meant to be asleep. The confusion passes as quickly as it came and he looks at his watch to see how long he slept for, only forty-five minutes. He lies there for a few minutes, pretending that more sleep is possible, before he gives in to reality and pulls himself up. He definitely feels better after the rest but he sits on the edge of the bed for a minute while his head clears, then he takes himself of to the bathroom. It is at this point he discovers what passes for a shower on Vulcan.

He steps into the shower booth and activates the spray only to be surrounded by a kind of vibrating mist for lack of a better way to describe it. It's not the cold, soaking shower he was seeking but at least the mist is cool, even if the vibrations set his teeth on edge. The strange pulse he feels at the base of his skull ensures he doesn't spend too long in the shower and he is dry almost as soon as he he turns the unit off so he wanders, stark naked, through to his bedroom. He starts momentarily when he hears the front door close and wonders if it's his host, she who shall remain nameless. He smirks to himself, he'd stake his life that her name begins with a T.

He stands in front of the climate control unit for a few more minutes and lets the last of the moisture from his shower evaporate away. He doesn't want to admit it to himself but he's kind of reluctant to go out and engage his host in small talk, Vulcans do not have natural conversational abilities and unless they've got a specific goal for the conversation they will do nothing to help keep it going. After a couple of minutes of trying to feel cool at twenty-seven degrees he puts on some clothes and heads to the door. As he leaves the room he notices a pair of flip flop like, cloth slippers by the door and reasons that, given how fastidious Vulcans are about touching things, they would probably think he was some kind of cave dwelling savage if he let his bare feet touch their sacred floors. He dons the slippers, then accepts his fate and goes to make awkward conversation with T'Whatshername.

He sees her as soon as he steps into the living room. She's standing, bare foot, in the kitchen, lost in thought, staring blankly at a tea cup. His heart stops, his breath catches in his chest. For brief unmeasurable moment he wonders if he's dreaming again, but he is filled with the unfathomable certainty that he is not.

"T'Pol?"

She startles at the sound of his voice and drops the cup which shatters at her feet. She's changed he thinks somewhat sadly, nothing would have spooked her once.

They both stand and stare at each other for a minute. Each cataloging the other, noting what has changed and what they have forgotten. Eventually she breaks the silence.

"Why are you here?"

"On Vulcan or in this house?" He clarifies.

"Both."

"The company I work for has a partnership with the Vulcan Science Academy. My transport got here early, there were no hotel rooms, so T...," shit, he really wishes he could remember her name now. "uh, the woman whose house this is, agreed to host me until a room becomes available."

"T'Les."

"What?"

"The woman who owns this house, her name is T'Les."

"Oh." Cue the awkward pause in the awkward conversation. He can't remember a time when he found it so difficult to talk to her, and their history has been defined by some pretty awkward conversations.

She just keeps looking at him wide eyed, almost as if she's nervous. This makes him sad too, that she thinks she has to be afraid of him, afraid of anything for that matter. It suddenly occurs to him that she can't move safely or she'll cut her feet on the pottery shards.

"Um, can I get you a brush and shovel, or some shoes?"

For a minute she looks at him like he's grown another head, until he indicates floor, and her gaze follows his hand to look at the remains of the cup on the floor.

"There are a pair of house slippers by the door. If you could bring them to me I will go and get a brush and pan to clean this up."

When she returns with the utensils, he takes them her off automatically and bends down to sweep up the shards. She doesn't protest, another thing that's changed, in the past she was fiercely independent and his Southern manners often grated on her.

He looks up her from the floor. "So why are you here, in this house, I mean?"

"I live here." She tells him tonelessly. "T'Les is my mother."

He doesn't know what to say to that so he concentrates on cleaning up the broken cup with more focused intensity than he'd usually apply to programming a warp field matrix.

He finishes and carefully hands her the pan of shards and the brush. She stares at them blankly for a minute as if she's not sure what to do with them, then just puts them down on the kitchen bench. More awkward silence. She looks at the floor.

It suddenly occurs to him how much he wants to touch her, to fold her in his arms and just hold her. He fights the urge desperately, because she is obviously not his hold.

"So, does Koss live here as well?" He feels an irrational need to know all the details

She doesn't take her eyes off the floor. "He stays here on occasion, but he also keeps an apartment in the city."

"So I guess you're bonded?" He's not sure why he's torturing himself like this.

She looks up at him suddenly, eyes wide. "How do you know about that."

He feels tears sting the back of his eyes, he didn't even realise how much hope he had held on to.

"Soval told me all about it, before I left Earth."

She nods, clearly that's not unexpected which confirms his previous suspicions about Soval's motives for telling him. She swallows, then asks. "How do you feel about it?"

The question hurts, maybe she does care but he just couldn't be what she needed. "I don't like it." He tells her honestly. "But I guess it is what it is."

She takes a deep breath and looks down, then releases it and looks back up at him. "It is possible to have the bond severed by a priest. Is that what you would prefer?"

He feels overwhelmed with sadness and anger. "Of course it's what I would prefer." He snaps at her." She blinks rapidly while jerking her head back at his sudden burst of anger. "I guess that's not what you'd prefer though, under the circumstances." His anger dissipates and the sadness floods into all the spaces it occupied.

She looks away. "It is not."

Hope dies. He presses his lips together and looks at the floor, trying not to cry. "I suppose Koss will be happy though." He comments bitterly.

She looks away "I believe so." She replies quietly.

He's suddenly desperate to get away from her, from this. It feels like his heart is being ripped open. "I suppose it would be best if I found somewhere else to stay, under the circumstances?" He can't believe he got that sentence out without his voice cracking.

She doesn't say anything and continues to avoid catching his eye.

He's going to have to get himself out of this one. "Look, your Mom said there are no hotel rooms available right now. Perhaps I could stay at Koss' apartment and he could stay here. I'm sure he'd be happy to get his wife's ex out of the same house as her."

She looks back at him abruptly. "What do you mean?"

"I assume Koss knows all about me... about us. Surly he would prefer it if I was not in the same house as you."

She looks at him intently "You said 'wife'. Do you think I'm married to Koss?"

He narrows his eyes and cants his head, isn't that what they'd been talking about this whole time. "Soval said you were going to marry him and you said you were bonded to him."

She takes a step closer to him, just out of reach. "I am not married to anyone, and my bond is not with Koss." She tells him quietly.

A strange feeling of dislocation comes over him, his world seems to have shifted on its axis and he's lost all sense of himself. He thinks back over the conversation, she never mentioned marriage, neither of them did, but she definitely implied she was bonded. He lifts his hand and indicates her broadly. "Then who...?" He asks, pretty sure something momentous is about to occur.

She steps closer again, standing just in front of him. "It's you." She says softly. "There is only you."

He takes a deep breath and looks at the ceiling for a moment, and a tear rolls from the corner of his eye even as a smile works it's way over his face. It feels like the first genuine smile he's expressed in the last eight months. Grinning like an idiot he looks back at her, standing so close to him he could touch her. So he does.

She reaches up with one hand and wipes away the tear then places her had over his and he feels a small pulse under his palm. Then she closes her eyes and takes a breath.

He almost falls over with the intensity of it. She has dropped her shields and it feels like a dam has burst in his head. Memories and emotions come flooding into his mind and it takes him a minute to sort through it all and realise that it's coming from her. Her longing, her desire, her love, it's all directed at him and it's so intense he can hardly breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _T'Les_**

She directs the vehicle carefully through the the traffic and her outward countenance is one of emotionless calm. She keeps the vehicle at a speed that is appropriate for the conditions, does not follow too close or change lanes erratically. She keeps a loose grip on the controls and does not tap her fingers or make any movements other than those required to drive. Because she is Vulcan and she is not worried. Worry is illogical under the circumstances and she is resolutely Vulcan in her refusal to acknowledge the fine line between suppression and denial.

She has calculated that T'Pol would have arrived home at least three and a half hours ago and it seems very unlikely that Mr Tucker slept that long. There is a small possibility that T'Pol went to sleep herself, if she was not feeling well, which means they may not have encountered each other yet. But either way, it does not matter, whatever has or hasn't transpired, worry will not change it.

This was not how things had been planned. He was supposed to arrive next week and stay at the serviced apartment. Then, Soval, who is also scheduled to arrive next week, would have explained all the details to Mr Tucker. Then, based on the outcome of that conversation, T'Les would have spoken to T'Pol and then, only then, would they have arranged a meeting between the two.

But his transport arrived early, a week early and the Academy was only notified the night before and the department administrator had calmly informed the team that morning after she had failed to find accommodation. It is quite inconsiderate really, Vulcan transports, baring accidents, always arrive at the specified time.

He needed to be hosted privately, that much was obvious. When this logical solution had been tabled there was a yawning silence when nobody, quite pointedly, offered to host a human in their residence. So she had volunteered, because someone had to and the reality was, after the Kir'Shara incident with Captain Archer, she had more personal experience interacting with humans than the whole team put together.

There had not been much time to think about it after that. She'd had to collect him from the shuttle port and get back to the academy for classes. At least, she had reasoned, she would be able to speak with T'Pol on the drive home from the academy to forewarn her and together they could have formulated a plan for approaching Mr Tucker. But when she went to the Astrophysics department to collect T'Pol, the department administrator told her that T'Pol had been feeling unwell and had gone straight home after her appointment. That was the precise moment that T'Les had started not worrying.

The house is quiet when she enters, she can hear the soft hum of a condenser which suggests climate control has been activated somewhere in the house. She notices T'Pol's bag and shoes at the door, which is not a surprise. She looks about the room, there is a brush and pan on the kitchen bench, with the fractured remains of tea cup in the pan but no other sign of either the human or her daughter. She continues on through the house.

She passes T'Pol's room but the door is shut. She goes to the guest room and glances in through the open door. The bed is slightly rumpled from someone lying on the top of the covers. The clothes he was wearing on arrival have been thrown across the back of the chair and his open bag is on the floor. His shoes are sitting just by the door and the house slippers she left for his use are gone. It all suggests that he is still in the house. Surely even a human would not be foolish enough to walk outside in the heat of the day in a pair of cloth slippers.

She returns to the closed door of her daughter's bedroom and stands in front of it for a moment, hesitating, questioning the logic of her intention to invade her adult daughter's privacy. In the end she thrusts logic rudely aside, a mother's duties are above logic. She quietly opens the door to her daughter's room and sighs, not with relief, because she was not worried.

They are both there, sleeping together on the bed. Trip lies on his left side with his left arm stretched out in front of him. T'Pol lies, back pressed against his chest, head resting on his outstretched arm, her upturned left hand resting in the palm of his outstretched hand. His right arm is curled over body, holding her close against him and she has his hand clutched to her chest between her breasts. She does not need to speak to either of them to know that the worst is over for them both, that they have resolved things to their mutual benefit. Satisfied, she quietly shuts the door and returns to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal, no doubt they will be hungry when they wake.

An hour later, when they have still not stirred from their sleep, she eats dinner alone. After the meal she steps out into the back garden and sits on a stone bench and listens to the sounds of the night. This is the time when the desert truly comes to life, the soft whistle of the haul'rav insects, the distant mating call of a lanka-gar, the scuttle of a shkral and eventually, the muted voices of lovers reunited. And, if she smiles to herself in contentment, there is no one to see or to judge as she sits alone and listens to the night breathe.

 **XXX**


	24. Chapter 23

**_T'Lara_**

It is Soval who suggests she speak plainly to Charles Tucker, explain her tragic connection to Enterprise and how it is affecting her behaviour towards him. It is an unexpected suggestion for a Vulcan to make but Soval has been associating humans long enough to know that she may benefit from their skills at managing emotions. He theorises that if she cannot suppress her emotions in the Vulcan manner, then perhaps she must express them in the human way, which seems to be through communicating them.

So she invites Mr Tucker to join her for lunch and she takes him to the Temperate Garden, in the biology department at the academy. The garden, housed in large conservatory, has an extensive collection of plants collected from the tepid regions of a multitude of planets and is artificially kept a temperature far more comfortable for him than most places on Vulcan. The gardens are lush and beautiful but the cool temperatures make them quite private as few Vulcans come here unless it is required for work.

The conversation is awkward. She did not expect anything less, she is Vulcan, after all, and she was never provided with a lexicon of emotion to help her communicate her feelings. But the result is surprising. She expects Charles Tucker to be dismissive at best, disdainful at worst. She has prepared for those responses. But she has underestimated how humans react to emotion n others. When he responds with sympathy and compassion she is somewhat undone in a way that is most un-Vulcan. He watches her calmly and without judgement as she struggles to contain her wayward emotions.

Then he tells her about his lost sister, killed in the Xindi attack on Earth with seven million other ordinary people who were just going about their lives. About the rage and grief and the burning hate that he could not express or repress and how it was T'Pol, who helped him come to terms with it, who, in the end was able to get him to acknowledge his grief was not just the blanket loss humanity felt for seven million departed souls, but specific and personal and that that was okay. He talks about how, in the end, he was able to make his peace with, not just the Xindi as a species, but the very individual who designed the weapon that killed his sister and when he did that he was able to extinguish the hate and the anger that was a raging fire beneath the surface of his existence, consuming his very soul.

She is surprised by his revelation, his situation is somewhat like hers, not exactly the same, but she understands, in some way, what he is giving her is his own story of profound loss, not as a comparison or a competition, but as an act of reciprocity, for her own story of despair. It is the human way of saying, I see your pain and anger and I offer you my own in fealty, and that this is the human equivalent of 'I grieve with thee', except it is not just a platitude, for he truly does and they are now comrades in loss.

So she gives him her story and as she tells it she realises, with shame, that it is not the loss of Seltor personally, that is the true source of her anger but the loss of her future, of her imaged life that was supposed to come with him. So she admits that, to herself and him, expecting his scorn but he just smiles at her sadly and tells her that we don't really grieve the person we have lost, we grieve for the person we will never have, the person we will never know and the life we will never have from knowing them, and, in end, when we grieve for our dead, we are all really just grieving for ourselves.

So they sit quietly for a moment, on a stone bench, under a large broad leafed tree form Earth, which he tells her is called a Maple, and each contemplate what they have lost. Eventually he asks her if she will be able to find another mate and she is compelled, in the spirit of confession they have adopted for this conversation, to tell him just why that is such a difficulty for her. He looks at her somewhat sadly at the revelation and tells her not to give up hope.

She can't help herself at that and tells him rather crisply that Vulcans do not hope.

Which just makes him laugh and respond that maybe they should.

Feeling quite Vulcan in her indignation she informs him that unless he knows an unbetrothed, Vulcan male, of a certain age who does not see a tendency to emotionality as a fatal character flaw, she can't see much benefit in hope.

He looks at her for a moment with narrowed eyes and pursed lips and she wonders if she has shattered the fragile peace that had grown between them. Suddenly he chuckle softly, shakes his head and mutters something about a scheming universe, then tells her that she definitely needs to come to his wedding in two days time.

She is somewhat thrown by this, firstly, because she did not know he was affianced, and secondly, that his fiancée had accompanied him to Vulcan from Earth and she says as much to him.

She is rather shocked, almost disbelieving, when he tells her who he is marrying and she says as much with typical Vulcan bluntness. He smiles softly at her skepticism and tells her he has found his soulmate and while he's pretty certain it's not going to be easy for them, he genuinely can't imagine life without her and he knows it for a fact because has just spent eight months trying to do just that.

Then suddenly something clicks in her mind, the strange impression she always had of him as being almost two dimensional, as though he was playing the part of himself but not really all there, was evidence his being separated from his bonded mate. She studies him frankly now and can see the change in him and wonders why she hasn't noticed it before. It's strange to think that she had been able to see what no human could, the space that another person had left in his soul, and she knows that if he had been Vulcan she would have recognised it immediately. She had not identified it though, she had not even been aware that such a thing was possible with a human so it had never occurred to her consider it. After all, if humans have any reputation regarding their psychic abilities, it is for their near complete lack of any skills worth mentioning.

An alarm suddenly goes off on his communicator and he apologises for leaving suddenly but he has an appointment to attend. Before he goes he extracts her promise she will attend his nuptials, which she provides, out of shear curiosity, if nothing else. And, as he farewells her in the human custom, he gives her a smile, the likes of which she had never seen on his face before, which is understandable, given that he had, to all intents and purposes, been surviving with only half his soul.

She is left alone with her thoughts in the cool, lush garden of exotic plants, so unfamiliar for a desert world. She has to acknowledge that Soval was right in directing her to speak with Mr Tucker, she does feel calmer and more centred and more Vulcan than she has in months. So the Vulcan sits quietly alone in the garden of alien plants and speculates that the photosynthesis of this extensive collection of plants must result in higher levels of oxygen and that would account for why, in this space, she finds it easier to breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Koss_**

This is the moment he finally comes accept that this was always the likely outcome and possibly even the logical one. There were always signs that, even though T'Pol had come to respect him, and even perhaps find him somewhat agreeable, she had always felt a certain distance from him, perhaps even a kind of distaste that was the natural reaction of a bonded female to a man who was not her mate. But he was convinced he had logic on his side, that despite everything she was meant to be his.

He had seen quite clearly how unwell she was at their wedding, how damaged she was by her association with the humans. But he also sensed how trapped she felt, bonded to a man who had rejected her, betrothed to another not of her choice. So he offered her freedom, conditional freedom, a year to find this human and attempt to resolve her relationship with him, and if it was not feasible, which logic dictated it was not, then she would sever her bond to the human and marry him. She had agreed, and he had, to a certain extent, taken on responsibility for her as though they were married already. He never considered for a moment her choice would be to keep the bond with the human.

He had virtually moved into T'Les' house, staying frequently in her guest room, but was never expected to behave as a guest. Instead he worked on showing T'Pol how useful he is, how Vulcan, finding her employment, getting her mother reinstated at the Academy, helping to prepare meals, accompanying her to appointments, even taking care of her during the Kir'Shara incident and assisting her mother and the human starship Captain to bring the Kir'Shara to the High Command.

After some initial awkwardness their relationship had taken on a kind of ease and, for the first few months, he had remained confident that his plans would come to fruition. In fact many Vulcans assumed they were already married, especially as Vulcans do not gossip so the story of their aborted wedding was generally only known to those who had been in attendance, he had certainly done nothing to dissuade anyone of the notion. But then things had settled and while she clearly did not find him objectionable, neither did she look at him with anything beyond a kind of reluctant acceptance. If anything she treated him like a distant relative she knew somewhat, but not well, and certainly not a potential mate. He also frequently sensed that she wished she did not feel so obligated to him so she could dismiss him from her presence. She never did, of course, because, for all that she strayed from the path of logic, she is still Vulcan and she would not dishonour herself and her agreement by sending him away.

Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, the human had arrived on Vulcan and far from showing distaste for the bond or reluctance to complete it, he embraced it and agreed enthusiastically to marriage. So, on the eve of T'Pol's marriage to an emotional, illogical human, T'Les gathered for dinner, a few key people who assisted them over the past months. Koss had no particular desire to spend an evening with the human who trapped T'Pol in this travesty of a union but can find no logical reason to refuse, so he sat watching them as the human forced his emotional attention on her and she responded with cool acceptance as the bond and Vulcan custom required.

The meal progressed better than he expected it would. The human, while overly emotional, was not impolite and seemed to have, at least, some rudimentary understanding of Vulcan customs. It was his treatment of T'Pol that irked Koss. He was overly familiar with her, stood too close to her, smiled too widely at her, held her gaze for too long. It was unseemly, and he concluded she must surely, as any Vulcan would, find his attention unwelcome. Saros and Soval, the only other guests, along with T'Les, seemed oblivious to his undignified behaviour which may just have been a demonstration of superior emotional control on their parts.

Now the meal has concluded and the after dinner conversation moves through a variety of topics: some of which the human contributes to eloquently, even somewhat logically, although never emotionlessly; others which he listens to intently. Eventually, T'Pol, looking somewhat fatigued, excuses herself and withdraws to the garden for some fresh air. Koss surreptitiously watches her for some time, as she stands looking out into the night with her back to the house, while he considers approaching her and outlining to her, one last time, the logic of her severing her existing bond and joining herself to him. But before he commits to a course of action he notices the human, who suddenly withdrew from the group a few minutes earlier, crossing the garden towards her.

She does not turn as the alien approaches her from behind, and Koss struggles to suppress the indignation he feels on her behalf when, as the human drapes a light shawl over her shoulders, he wraps his arms around her, draws her back against his body and presses his mouth against her neck where it meets her shoulder. Koss briefly considers going out to inform this human what constitutes appropriate behaviour for a Vulcan but knows that it would shame T'Pol. At any rate he fully expects that, given their relatively private setting, T'Pol will not allow this type of attention to continue.

Instead she cants her head slightly to the side and drops it back onto the man's shoulder exposing more of her neck to his attention. Koss watches with barely suppressed shock as the man trails his lips up to her ear then whispers something to her softly. She shivers in response and turns slightly in his arms placing one hand behind his head to pull it down to her, while rising up to press her mouth against his.

Suddenly his preconceptions are turned on their head. He thinks back to the aborted wedding all those months ago, he could have forced her, made her marry him, he would have been within his rights to do so. He had seen in the moment he touched her Katra that she belonged wholly to someone else but he had later convinced himself his logic had been corrupted by her rampant emotions. He had become certain that under normal circumstances she would not have chosen to bond with a human. He concluded the unique environment in the Delphic Expanse, her Pa'nar syndrome and the effects of the trellium-d made her vulnerable and this human had taken advantage of that vulnerability. He believed that if he could demonstrate that he was a superior mate, that logic would bring her to him, that there was no benefit keeping a human mate when a Vulcan one was available.

He had been certain that he was her logical partner and her relationship with the human was not one she would have chosen freely. He finally accepts that the opposite is true. She has only ever felt trapped by her connection to him and whatever force has tied her to this human, she has never questioned its validity or its logic. He turns his head away from the lovers, granting them the privacy they believe they already have and catches T'Les' eye as he does so. Her expression is unreadable and while he was once certain that she supported his suit he wonders now if she too has accepted the strange logic of T'Pol's human mate.

The following day he watches impassively as his former betrothed weds her human mate and he notices that T'Pol's eyes follow the human wherever he goes, that when she approaches him to speak of some detail or introduce him to a guest she positions herself close enough to him that their shoulders touch or their hands brush against each other and when, at the commencement of the ceremony, their fingers touch in the ozh'esta the air around them seems to shimmer with their connection. He realises as he watches the couple, so inextricably drawn to each other, that for all that he had been fascinated by T'Pol's evident emotions, by the fire within her, he had never felt true desire for her as a person, he had never felt compelled to touch her or know her, that she had been almost like a curiosity to him, something of interest, something to possess.

Now, as he has stood by, unprotesting, and watched the woman once promised to him, marry another, he realises that he will need to find another mate. For the reality is that the isolation of an emotionless existence and the strange cycles of Vulcan sexuality are not particularly compatible with bachelorhood. It is, as he ponders this new undertaking, that Soval approaches to introduce a delicate young Vulcan woman who has recently returned from a secondment to Earth and will be working closely with Mr Tucker on his project.

It is as he converses politely with the petite Vulcan woman, that he is struck by how much she reminds him of T'Pol. Which is unaccountable as the two appear quite different in looks and natures. But as T'Lara comments on the strange circumstances of the wedding and he looks into her lively, dark eyes he has the most illogical thought that it is actually the other way round and that T'Pol has always reminded him of her. It is with this incongruous notion that he suddenly remembers the scene he observed the night before and wonders how she would taste if he were to press his mouth against her skin. Fortunately his Vulcan discipline does not desert him but it takes all his effort just to stand calmly near her and breathe.

 **XXX**


	25. Chapter 24

**_Trip_**

He's on T'Khut when it happens. He almost hadn't come today. He had been able to tell through the bond that T'Pol had been feeling off for the past couple of days and he had told her would stay home to be close to her. Both T'Les and T'Pol had told him he was being illogical, that T'Khut was only 35 minutes away by shuttle, that if anything happened he could be home quickly, that T'Les would there if it did, and that his must honour his responsibilities. It's hard enough to argue an intuitive feeling with one Vulcan almost impossible against two, so he had pushed down his worry and come. He should have listened to instincts.

It happens so suddenly it's painful. One minute he's in a normal conversation with T'Lara and the Vulcan technician, next thing he's lying on the floor feeling like his head's exploded with, two Vulcans looking blandly down at him as if it's perfectly normal for a person to pass out mid sentence. He has a fleeting memory of a wave of agony passing over him, then a kind of absence, a nothingness that felt somewhat like his brain was collapsing in on itself but that he can only describe as pain. He has no idea how long he was on the floor before he regained awareness but he lies there for a moment, disoriented and hurting, before he realises she's gone.

He hadn't been aware of how long she'd been there, long before the wedding a couple of months before. She'd been so much a part of him he hadn't even recognised there was another consciousness nestled next to his own. With virtually no telepathic skills to speak of he'd had no way of distinguishing another mind from his. But now she has completely vanished, her absence is a gaping hole in his soul.

"T'Pol!" He sits up too suddenly and a wave of dizziness passes over him.

Awareness comes over T'Lara and she makes the unusual move of touching him to help him sit up. "Has something happened to T'Pol?" She asks as she assists to him to a seated position.

"Yes... I think so.. I don't know, I can't..." He shakes his head, confused, and squeezes his eyes between his hand. "I can't feel her, she's gone." Panic starts to overwhelm him, especially when a look of worry flashes over T'Lara's face. It's never a good sign when a Vulcan shows emotion.

It only takes her a moment to compose herself before she turns to the technician and tells him to contact the shuttle port and arrange an urgent transport to take Trip back to Vulcan. Then she's goes over to a table, gets Trip a glass of water and waits calmly for him to drink and gather his wits.

He almost doesn't want to ask the next question but has to know. "Is she... if I can feel her does that mean she's..." he can't bear to say the word.

T'Lara looks thoughtful. "I don't believe so, I do not think you would be coherent if she was deceased." She has no compunction about voicing what he couldn't, trust a Vulcan to be blunt.

She takes the empty glass and helps him to his feet. "Of course, there are no records of previous human/Vulcan bondings to guide us as to how the human partner would react to the death of the Vulcan bondmate," She tells him looking thoughtful, still Vulcan in her candidness and killing the hope she had just granted him. "But I believe it is likely that she has gone into a trance, which is normal when..."

She is interrupted by the sound of Trip's communicator chiming with a call from T'Les, which, under the circumstances, he answers without waiting for her to finish her sentence.

Then he is running.

He can hear his foot falls echoing in the cavernous halls of the testing facility. Vulcan public spaces tend to replicate the din of an academic library. Any noise above the decibels of a quiet murmur tends to draw attention, so his race to the shuttle draws the attention of every Vulcan he passes. It seems Vulcans only run if they are being chased by something.

T'Les was right, it is only a thirty-five minute shuttle ride from T'Khut to the surface. What she failed to take into account is that the shuttle port is at the opposite end of the huge Science Academy complex on T'Khut and it's a fifteen minute drive from the shuttle port in Shi'kahr to T'Les' house. This means he has a full hour to panic and imagine worst case scenarios before he bursts through the door to find T'Les and two of the specialists standing calmly in the living room holding cups, as though they have gathered for a tea party rather than a medical emergency.

"Where is she?" He gasps out, He has adapted pretty well to the environment since he arrived but running up twenty-eight stairs is pushing his Vulcan adjusted fitness level to its limits. He starts heading towards their bedroom but T'Les stops him with her hand.

"Doctor T'Karra will brief you on T'Pol's condition. Your assistance will be required so you will need to contain your emotions before you enter the room." She tells him with a raised eyebrow. It's the Vulcan equivalent of 'pull yourself together man'.

The Doctor motions towards the living room seats, indicating Trip should sit. He complies and starts to do the meditational breathing T'Pol has been teaching him over the two months since the wedding. They had been preparing for this.

T'Karra waits calmly for him to centre himself while T'Les brings him a large glass of water. He's noticed that Vulcans seem to want to ply him with fluid anytime his emotions go beyond acceptable levels.

He finishes the water and looks at the Doctor with raised eyebrows.

T'Karra nods slightly and begins. "As T'Les explained when she contacted you, T'Pol's condition progressed very rapidly and she entered a partial trance, which happens in some cases, but is quite dangerous. For her own safety we had to medically induce a trance but the drugs will affect her coherence. You will be required to connect with her through the bond and guide her through the process."

"How do I connect with her, I can't feel her."

"That is a result of the partial trance. Once she is in a full trance and you are in physical contact with her and in a meditational state you should should have no difficulty."

Trip nods, he's had a bit of a crash course in all this over the past few months but they hadn't really covered much of the worst case scenarios. "Why has this happened, is it because of her neural damage or because of... the human factor?"

T'Karra is Vulcan so won't commit to any hypothesis that is not proven. "It could be either, both or neither. The failure to enter a full trance happens in about five percent of cases with no obvious cause. Her situation is unique so we have no baseline of data to extrapolate from."

He puts his tongue in his cheek. "What if I can't reach her?"

"There is no reason to believe that should happen. You have an exceptionally strong bond. You were able to meet telepathically even before the bond was complete and with light years between you. There is no reason to to suppose you will not be able to achieve it now, but if you cannot, surgical intervention will be necessary."

He nods and purses his lips thoughtfully. He hasn't had a lot of time to prepare for this. He worries he's going to let her down again. He watches as a man comes from the direction of the bedrooms and murmurs something to T'Karra.

"The medication is starting to take effect, we should go through to her now." T'Karra tells him.

He nods and stands up. As he follows T'Karra across the living room he thinks to himself that T'Les should probably bring him a drink of water about now.

As they approach the door he feels her mind again reaching out to him. He feels her fear, her panic, her confusion. He goes to her side as soon as he enters the room and takes her hand. He's not sure if she even knows he's there.

"I'm here, baby. It's okay, I'm here."

"Trip?" She mutters his name but doesn't turn her head.

"That's right, I'm here." He pushes back her damp hair from her face.

"I'm here, it's okay, I'm here." He tells her softly as he presses his lips against her forehead.

He climbs onto the bed and sits behind her, holding her against his chest, her head flops back on his shoulder. He can still feel the turmoil of her mind, fighting for comprehension, even though it seems like she is unconscious. He concentrates on his breathing, trying to find the state of relaxation where he can enter her consciousnesses.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers, feeling her succumb to the drug "that's right, just breathe..."

 **XXX**

 ** _T'Pol_**

"T'Pol". She is emerges out of her meditation at the sound of her softly spoken name. She looks up to find him leaning against the cupboard at the end of her bed.

"Commander Tucker, I hope there is a good reason for you invading my privacy by entering my quarters uninvited?"

"There is actually." He gives her a enigmatic grin. "Come on," he holds out a hand to her. "We have to go."

She raises an eyebrow at him and gets up from her cushion, ignoring his hand. "I assume there is some manner of emergency which has taken out the comms system and disabled the bell on my door, prompting you to come personally to summon me."

He give her a smirk. "Something like that." He turns to the door and palms the lock to open it. He stands in the open door watching her, waiting for her to follow him. She moves to follow him but stops when his gaze drops to her meditation candle sitting, still lit, on the floor of her quarters.

"I think you should bring that with you." He tells her with complete sincerity as he moves through the door. He stops abruptly and turns to look at her intently. "Don't let it go out."

She cants her head and raises her eyebrows, but picks up the candle and follows him out into the corridor. He tips his head in the direction of the stern and walks ahead of her. She moves to follow him but it feels like the gravity has increased by a couple of factors and she struggles to lift her feet.

"Is there a malfunction in the grav-plating." She asks him as she shuffles along behind him.

"Something like that." He responds. She can't help noticing that he is walking with apparent ease.

Suddenly the whole ship shudders and she is violently thrown to the deck, the lit candle clutched in her hand. She feels a surge of fear. Whatever happens, she can't drop it or let it go out.

"Are you okay?" He crouches down in front of her but doesn't help her get up or offer to hold the candle for her.

"It's very difficult." She tells him, as she pushes herself off the floor with one hand.

He twists his mouth a bit. "I know, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I can only guide you."

She feels confused by this situation. He is being illogical, this whole situation is illogical, but her feet just seem to follow him of their own volition. She moves forward, dragging her entire body against the increased gravity. The ship shudders again but she manages to stay on her feet. She notices that gravity seems to decrease significantly during the shaking and she is able to move further forward.

She concentrates on following Trip, who seems to stay a few steps ahead of her, no matter how quickly or slowly she moves. The periods of quaking get longer and closer together so it takes a huge amount of energy to keep from falling over, from dropping her precious cargo as they progress slowly down the corridor. She can now barely move when the quaking stops, instead she leans against the wall and gathers strength for the next onslaught.

He turns and smiles gently at her. "You're doing great. You're nearly there."

Nearly where? She doesn't even know why they are doing this but she lacks the energy to interrogate him about the reasoning behind this irrational journey. Yet, at the same time, she is filled with certainty that she must do it, that she must get to wherever they are going. She pushes the conflicting thoughts out of her mind. Lives depend on her. She's doesn't know whose lives, so far they haven't seen a single crew member other than each other.

Finally he stops outside the launch bay. She has no idea how long they had been walking, she has always had an acute awareness of time passing, a skill further honed by her years with the V'Shar. But now her perception is completely skewed, it feels like they have been walking for hours and no time at all. She is certain there is not a single corridor on enterprise that is this long. Certainly not one that leads directly from her quarters to the launch bay, they should have turned at least four corners to get get here.

She doesn't bother to think too hard about it. She slumps against the bulkhead, drained by the immense effort just to get here. He crouches down in front of her again and takes her hand, looking into her face with concern.

"Just a little bit further, I promise." He takes her hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss into her palm.

"I want to rest." She tells him but the shuddering starts up again compelling her forward. She rises up awkwardly. She feels betrayed by her body which seems so weak and uncoordinated but won't stop pushing forward even in all its fatigue. She struggles into the launch bay, she can see the shuttle pod ahead, she just needs to get there. She's not even sure how she makes it. He doesn't let go of her hand, but doesn't help her. She resents how easy this is for him.

They finally reach the shuttle she reaches in and places the candle on the seat next to the door and drags herself inside and sits on the floor facing the bow. She puts the still lit candle on floor in front of her. She slumps down, exhausted, her usual upright posture gone. He sits behind her and she doesn't even wonder why he is being so familiar with her, he is supposed to be there. She sags back against him and rests her head in his shoulder.

He brushes his lips over her forehead. "You're nearly there darlin', just keep going for a little bit."

The launch bay doors open and the shuttle abruptly drops into space. She wonders for a moment who is flying it, but suddenly a bright light floods in through the front window temporarily blinding her and she gasps, closes her eyes and turns her face into Trip's neck.

When she opens her eyes everything has changed. She isn't on Enterprise, or even the shuttle pod, but in her bedroom, in her mother's house, sitting up on her bed with Trip behind her. There are several people in the room talking in hushed voices but she can't make out what they are saying because there is a strange wailing noise and Trip seems to be half laughing and half crying and kissing the side of her face while repeatedly telling her that she'd done it.

She becomes aware of her fatigue and pain and starts to shudder.

"Is she okay? Should she be shaking like this." Trip asks one of the people in the room

"She is in shock. It is not uncommon after a medically induced trance. It will pass naturally." Comes the reply, she doesn't know who said it, she can't seem to focus on anything going on around her.

Suddenly one of the attendants approaches her carrying a small bundle loosely wrapped in a blanket. Trip, in response to something the woman says, gently parts the top of her robe, exposing her chest. The woman partially unwraps the bundle and places it against her bare skin. It is warm, and soft, and slightly sticky and she looks down looks down with wonder into the screwed up, slightly indignant face of her newborn son.

The jolt of emotion clears the remaining fog from the trance and shock and she holds him against her chest and turns her face to Trip's and he palms a tear of his cheek and smiles at her and kisses her softly. They look down at their son and she realises that they have done it. After months of pain and fear, an uncertainty, and loneliness; they found their way back to each other and to this moment together.

The bond is open and she can feel Trip's pride, his awe and his love for them both washing over her and mingling with her own. She feels her chest constrict with the enormity of it all. They are family now, forever, and she sits in his ams, both looking down at their miracle child and watching him breathe.

 **XXX**


	26. Chapter 25

_Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I kind of hit a wall with this story. I had originally intended that it would end with the birth But I felt like it needed a bit of a denouement and I was struggling with how to do it. Let me know what you think. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. - you guys make it all worth while._

* * *

 ** _Archer_**

He hears the squeal from the bridge at about the same time as he opens his own message. He is not too worried. He has spent fours years working alongside the owner of that squeal so he knows it signifies someone has gotten married, or pregnant or a particularly interesting pair of shoes.

He reads through his message and quickly discovers which of those three must have precipitated the shriek. He gives a wry laugh, while Enterprise was on Earth forging history with the negotiations for the Coalition of Planets it seems Trip and T'Pol were having their own pivotal moment in history. Neither of them had mentioned this little matter when they resumed contact a few months previously.

He realises he has some mixed feelings about this news. He is happy for Trip and T'Pol. The kind of happiness you get from friends getting married and having kids. But also, more specifically, that these two people have done it. His brief association with Surak was enough to let him know that they would not have been having the best time while they were apart. Trip's total ignorance about what was happening to him would not have helped one bit, which is what would have caused him to close himself off.

But Archer knows he is still human at his core and he hasn't completely put aside his hurt after Trip cut all contact back in April and even though they are communicating again it's not as natural as it was. Realistically their relationship had already suffered from the ten car pile up that was the mission in the Expanse. He wants it to be what it was, but suspects there may be too much water under the bridge and too much space between them, literally and figuratively, to ever completely get that old camaraderie back.

The pragmatist in him is more than a little miffed, he had been planning a campaign of wooing the former Commander and Sub-Commander back to Starfleet. He was pretty sure, after some discreet conversations with Command, that he could have gotten the whole issue of their marriage accepted as part of the package. He had even sold it as a kind of test case for relaxing the fraternisation rules, particularly around deep space missions. He's got a shit show in hell of getting either of them into space now.

And then there's the small matter of his jealousy. A bit of it with regards to T'Pol, he acknowledged his attraction to her years ago of course and had filed it in the "never gonna happen" tray. But somehow it did happen for Trip, and he knows it's foolish but he can't stop himself from asking what would have happened if he had pursued it. Once again he has the ghost of Surak to enlighten him about how well that would have gone down.

There is more to it than that though. He feels a little closed out, he didn't just have a close friendship with Trip, T'Pol was his friend as well. It kind of felt like the three of them were the triumvirate of Enterprise, they each had such different skills but together they were the strongest team you could have forged to lead this crew. But then Trip and T'Pol went off and formed their own little club without him and he can't help wondering just how long he had been the third arm in the relationship before the other two completely broke away. Now he's always going to be on the edge of them. They're not three individuals in a friendship anymore, Trip and T'Pol are a unit and he's... alone.

He realises that's the crux of. He's alone. He's spent his life prioritising his career, he's deliberately ended relationships to preserve it and he has no family to speak of. Deep space exploration does not exactly open up many opportunities for romance and the rigours of command keep him somewhat isolated from his crew. He had come to rely on his friendship with Trip and T'Pol as a kind of replacement for a family but then they went and made their part into an actual family and he's been left alone, out in the cold of deep space.

So in the end it's not his friendship with Trip, or his attraction to T'Pol or even the dynamic between them as the former Command team on the Enterprise. It's all down to his personal choices. The life he chose to live and and what he gave up to live it. He sighs at the moment of self revelation, takes another look at the photo of Trip holding his son, then opens the cabinet in his office, takes out a bottle of bourbon and a couple of glasses and pours a measure into each glass. He takes one of the glasses for himself and pushes the other towards the picture of his old friend holding his newborn son.

"Here's to us, Trip,". He taps the second glass with his own. "Making history, although I'm not so sure this is what they had in mind for you when they coined the phrase 'boldly go where no man has gone before'."

The door chimes and he's pretty sure he knows who it is; the owner of the squeal.

"Captain?"

He looks up to see Hoshi standing the the open doorway.

"Have you seen the message from Trip?"

She notices the glass in his had and the apparently unassigned one on his desk. She giggles at the sight.

"Just wetting the baby's head." He tells her with a slightly embarrassed smile.

He fancies he sees a little smile of sympathy on her face. Hoshi has always been too perceptive by half. She walks over and picks up the lonely glass and taps it against his."To family, new and old, wherever they may be."

They both take a drink, and he hides a smile behind his glass when she coughs a little and shudders at the sharpness of the drink.

"Sooo," He looks at her speculatively. "Who won the pool?"

She coughs again and looks away and he laughs, because he knows it was probably her and Malcolm will be annoyed."

"I'd better return to my post." She puts the glass down on his desk and turns towards the door and he gets up and follows her because she's right, family are family, wherever they may be.

So he goes out to be with his, while they laugh, and reminisce, and celebrate and breathe.

 **XXX**

 ** _Malcom_**

"Skippy, my good man, quick question for you."

"Certainly, Lieutenant Commander Reed, How may I assist you?"

"How long is a Vulcan pregnancy?"

"I believe it is roughly equivalent to twelve point five Earth months, Lieutenant Commander Reed."

"That bloody Yank bastard! I knew there was more going on than neuro-pressure. 'Just friends', my arse."

"I beg your pardon Lieutenant Commander?"

"Sorry, Sub-Commander, just talking to myself. I'll see you at dinner?"

"I will see you then, Lieutenant-Commander."

"He could have damn well given me a heads up. Bloody yank bastard, when I see him I'll make wish he never learned how to breathe."

 **XXX**

 ** _Trip_**

He steps into the living room to find T'Les pacing the living room floor, humming softly to his his new born son, with an expression on her face that could only be describe as affectionate. It is something of a surprise to see his very Vulcan mother-in-law behaving so emotionally.

She looks up at him with no trace of embarrassment at being caught by her human son-in-law.

"He is a remarkably calm baby." She tells him quietly.

Trip shrugs "He seems pretty normal to me." He can't claim to have huge experience with newborns. He remembers his nephews as babies only vaguely but he can't remember them being much different from this.

T'Les strokes the cheek of the sleeping baby. "Vulcan newborns cry a great deal. It is a very trying time for a parent." She looks at Trip and notices his expression of surprise. "You expected the opposite to be true?"

He walks over and looks down at the screwed up little face of his son and can't help the wash of love the passes over him. "Honestly, yes." He looks up at her with an evil grin. "I expected Vulcan babies to exit the womb with one eyebrow raised, immediately comment on how illogical the whole birthing process is, then request a bowl of plomeek broth."

She looks at him with one of her own eyebrows raised in, what he hopes is amusement. "You are right on one point: childbirth is immensely illogical. However, Vulcans are not born with the emotional discipline of an adult, it is a skill that must learned. Vulcans are, by nature, an extremely emotional species which is probably never more clearly evident than when they are infants."

"So you think he will be more human in his nature?"

She looks down again at the sleeping baby with an expression that he can only describe as doting. "He will be himself." She says softly. "T'Pol and I will teach him how to be a Vulcan and you and your family will teach him how to be human but ultimately, he will have to define himself because he is the first of his kind."

Trip swallows with the immensity of the task that is before him. He'd had very little time to accustom himself to the reality of his impending parenthood. It had taken several weeks for him just to get over the fact that he hadn't lost T'Pol for good. If he's honest with himself, with the wedding and work and learning about the bond and taking care of T'Pol in the final months of a difficult pregnancy, he has to admit he had kind of pushed aside facing the very pertinent fact that pregnancy ultimately leads to a child. He and T'Pol hadn't even discussed names, they had been somewhat tied up with each other.

The child stirs in his grandmother's arms and she promptly passes him over to his father.

"He will be more settled with you." She tells him calmly.

"Why do you think that?" He asks as he accepts the bundle somewhat awkwardly and sits down on one of the couches.

"Because of the parental bond. He has is a weak bond with me, through my bond with T'Pol. But the bond with you is already strong. Can you not feel it."

The whole bond thing is kind of new to him he has to work at perceiving what comes as naturally as breathing to Vulcans. He concentrates, turning his mind inwards as he has been taught by Saros and T'Pol. He finds T'Pol immediately, something like the way he can find the nose on his face without a mirror, she has awoken from her nap and is moving around the bedroom. Sensing his attention on her she gives him a mental nudge, a telepathic caress on his cheek. He returns the sensation to her and pulls away from her focusing, trying to tease out the different consciousnesses. He finds it tucked between them, somewhat nebulous and unformed, connected to them, but, at the same time, distinct.

It amazes him, this new world that has opened up to him since being informed of the bond. He cannot believe they thought he would be intimidated by it, by the intimacy, the inevitability. He is as intrigued by it as he is content. To him it is as though his love has been rendered as something tangible, something more real than just feeling. He knows T'Pol will never tell him she loves him, but he doesn't need to hear it. Because the bond makes it so palpable it's like he can see it and taste it and touch it.

He focuses on in son's katra again and is surprised to find an can only be described as an empty space along side it and ponders what it signifies.

"T'Shanik".

He startles, equally from the name reverberating around his consciousness as from T'Pol suddenly sitting down next to him. He looks at her questioningly.

"The "empty space" you perceive." She speaks aloud this time. "It is from our bond with T'Shanik."

He feels torn between grief and relief. She had been so much more than just a sliver of his genetic code, rudely spliced together with T'Pol's to serve some madman's perverted agenda. She had been a part of his soul and he knows with tragic certainty that the space she left will never be filled, it will remain within him forever. It also makes him reassess what his parents have lost and survived; the unhealable wound that occurs when you outlive your child. At the same time he is comforted by the thought that his tragic daughter did not live and die alone as he had always supposed, but had used the abilities inherited from her mother and reached out across the emptiness of space and found them, and nestled herself between their conjoined souls, making herself truly theirs.

It makes him think of their other other impossible child (reminding him that this latest one is not actually the first of his kind) who roamed the expanse for a hundred years and may still be out there, but is more likely dead, or possibly didn't even exist in the first place. He snorts to himself with amazement as much as amusement, causing T'Pol to lift her head from her quite logical admiration of their son and looks at him questioningly.

"Talking about T'Shanik also got me thinking about Lorian and I realised that you and I probably have the weirdest family in the Galaxy."

"It is quite an unlikely group of offspring." She tells him blandly. Her expression is fixed but he knows she is amused because he can feel it. She has started pushing her excess emotion off onto him because he is better able to deal with it. Her mother is infinitely amazed that a human spouse has made her emotional daughter more logical not less.

"At least we get to keep this one." He says at last smiling softly at her. "But I think we need to give him a name."

"I believe I have already indicated that he should be named in the tradition of his father." She gives him the eyebrow as she says it.

He gives her a sideways smile in return. "I wasn't quite sure if I should count on a conversation that took part in a dream, as being relationship cannon."

"You may safely assume that anything that happened between us in the dream space is akin to actually occurring."

"Really? Including the one where you turned into a mad zombie and tried to strangle me?"

"While you are aggravating enough to test the emotional control of even the most logical of Vulcans, nonetheless, for a Vulcan that would be an expected response to her mate engaging in an intimate social engagement with an unbound, unrelated female."

"Maybe, but in all fairness, I hated every excruciating minute of that date and I only went on it because I thought you were married to someone else and I figured I should at least try to have a life."

Sometimes he's amazed at how easily they seem to have just slid gracefully past the hurt of the past year and back into the cool banter that has defined their relationship. This is why he loves the bond, especially now that is complete, they are laid bare to each other and the pain, anger and self recriminations of their months apart are a secret to neither of them. It is a very efficient way to manage a relationship. He can see see how Vulcans can be so dismissive of emotions when they don't have to speak of them. At the same time he is not fooled at all, they can harp on all they like about telepathy and katras, calling it a bond makes it seem like something different, but he knows it is really just another name for love.

"It is extremely unVukcan for me to admit it,". Her tone has changed, she is no longer teasing him, though only those very familiar with Vulcans would be able to hear the difference. "but every minute that I believed I would have to marry Koss, I also found excruciating. No matter how hard I tried, I could not envision my life without you in it." She reaches carefully across him so not to disturb their sleeping son, takes his face in her hands and kisses him gently and rests her forehead against his. "You are half of my heart and half of my soul, without you I can barely breathe."

 **XXX**

Things are different. For as long as he had known anything, things remained the the the same. The same temperature, the same fluid surrounding him, the same sounds, the same darkness, the same patterns of movement and stillness. Then everything changed and keeps changing. Now he feels and he does not know what it means.

Mostly he is warm, but sometimes he is colder or hotter and it makes him feel. Sometimes he is wrapped tight and sometimes the familiar feeling of being contained is gone and parts of hims flail about and it makes him feel. Sometimes it is too still and that makes him feel. Sometimes it is bright and he can see many shapes and shadows that he does not know how to define and it makes him feel. Sometimes it is very quiet, too quiet, which also makes him feel. Sometimes he is alone, which definitely makes him feel. Frequently he gets a strange feeling of need in him, this makes him feel, it makes him feel a lot. Then, at other times, there is a strange wetness against a part of him, just another thing to make him feel

When he feels, he reaches out to her, the one that used to contain him, then suddenly let him go, set him adrift on all this feeling. When he feels, and it is too much, he makes a loud sound and reaches out for her mind. He pushes everything he feels out to her. Often someone, not always her, takes away the circumstance, but the feeling remains and she tries to push it aside so he does not feel it. He knows this is her way but it does not help him, so he seeks out the other. The one whose mind was always there. A part of her? A part of him? No, they are all parts of the same thing, he can see it. They belong together, him, her and the other one. The other one knows about feelings, the other one absorbs feelings, processes them, then lets them float away. The other one helps him see, there are two kinds of feelings: the ones he wants, and the ones he does not want.

They help him with the feelings he does not want. They hold him close, and make sounds, and remove the wetness, and move him, and she attaches him to her and the need in him goes away.

But they also give him feelings he wants, from the holding and the noises and the moving. But there is something else, something he always wants, that is always there, something that encompasses the three of them, it is the thing that holds them all together. The other one one knows what it is, the other one has a name for it, because it is a feeling.

Now the other one is holding him, close enough that he can see patterns of light and dark that feel familiar and right and he does not want to look away. He wants to learn this pattern of the other one, it is important. Then she is there as well, near enough that that he can make out a similar pattern of light and dark on her. He studies the pattern on her as well, there are subtle differences between them that he will learn. They are making sounds and the connection between her and the other one is open and the feelings flow between them and he is awash in them. He feels hope, awe, gratitude, amusement, contentment, happiness, joy, love. The names of feelings flow into him from the other one. This is right, all these feelings are right, even the ones he doesn't want, he knows that from the other one, this is what it means to be alive, this is what it means to breathe.

The End

 **XXX**


End file.
